


Cursed Fate

by Dimirti



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11370033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dimirti/pseuds/Dimirti
Summary: The memory faded as it had come, surrounding Hanzo in the cold, dark, peace he was growing accustomed to. A peace that he began to find lonely. He found himself longing, if ever so slightly, for more. He wanted to hear that voice again."...Jesse..."





	1. Blue Abyss

It hit him abrubptly. Suddenly, Hanzo had become aware that he was emphatically and unequivocably suffocating. His vision, at best, blurred and narrow.

Blue. Dark.

His nerves were dulled by an unfamiliar pressure. He attempted to take a deep breath to gain his bearings, revitalize a mind slowly becoming sluggish. Instead, he found that salty liquid filled his mouth. He managed stop himself, to hold onto what little air remained. He worked to crane his neck up. Far above, the sun broke through scarred glass. The realization of his situation snapped his senses into overdrive. 

It was then that he became aware of how quickly he was sinking. He held tight to what little breath he had, realizing he had to drop the weight to have any hope of surviving. He looked down, reaching to unlatch the locking mechanism of his prosthetic limbs. There was a brief hesitation, noticing how the right prosthesis bent awkardly at the ankle joint, lacking anything where the toes had once been. Flashes of an unfocused memory flickered in his mind.  
That was all it was. A flicker, barely there. 

_A whizzing bullet..._

_The sound of shattering metal and sparking wires..._

_The shock as his leg gave out and left him falling..._

Falling from his vantage and into the water he now found himself in.

Hanzo's face contorted into a grimace as he quickly detached the metal from flesh, returning his focus back to the surface. It seemed so close and he willed with every fiber of his being to just swim. But the true struggle had just begun. He could feel himself losing grip on conciousness, the last bit of the air in his lungs burning. He didn't have much longer. He had to make it. He would not die here.

Alas, his focus betrayed him. His body attempted to breathe, to gain precious oxygen. They only succeeded to fill with the water that surrounded him. His panic rose in his throat and he nearly screamed, adrenaline reaching a zenith. In the corners of his vision a blackness loomed. His mind was closing to darkness.  
But just as suddenly as he found himself here, he saw a flash of red and somthing glinting silver in the filtered sun. A quiet part of him questioned why he so desperately reached for it, but the last thing he felt before the blackness won out was a firm grip on his wrist pulling him toward the light.

~~~~~~~~~

McCree felt his chest tighten painfully as he watched Hanzo's foot shatter on the bullet's impact. The part he could never have braced for was watching the archer fall from his cover. He'd offered his concerns about how close the tower had been to the sheer cliff, but Hanzo "prideful-and-stubborn-to-a-fucking-fault" Shimada had brushed them off with a look so sharp that McCree could have sworn he'd felt it.

The world fell into slow motion as Hanzo dropped. McCree was too far to catch him. The rest of the team even further still. Yet he was sure they'd all seen it, as muffled gasps and desperate shouting sounded behind him. 

He didn't have time to think, to stare, or even to wait to see if the archer's seemingly infinite number of skills would shock him again. Acting off of instinct alone, he set his jaw and ran. He needed a running start to clear the cliff's edge.

Behind him there were loud noises, probably shouts for him to stop. But if he was anything, he was reckless in desperation. So he drowned them out, his stride pulling him swiftly towards the edge.

He jumped. He could still see the ripples. Ripples that were settling in the water where Hanzo fell. He ignored the rushing sound of the water as he collided, his own splash loud in his ears. The salt stung his eyes, but it mattered not because he could see him. See him swimming, futily reaching for the surface. Pushing towards him he took his chance to reach back. He wasn't fully aware of what he was doing, allowing a mix of instinct and adrenaline to have control of his body. His fingers found Hanzo's wrist, and clutched it tight. He pulled the archer close, swimming as hard as his body allowed in order to breach the surface. He waved a hand at the team, trusting evac was already on the way.

It was when he finally looked down that he became painfully aware of how cold and still Hanzo actually was. McCree could swear he could even see his skin actively paling beneath his grip. He looked around, desperate to find some surface. Anything along the coast to get to.

A small beach tucked in the rocks allowed him to release a breath he didn't know he had held. He pushed himself to swim. Quickly. There was no time.

He felt the panic fully set in once he'd pulled Hanzo safely onto land. Almost tentatively, he leaned close, hoping against all hope to find the man still miraculously breathing. This hope shattered at the sight of the archer's still chest, pulling a soft "Hanzo, please..." from his own. He willed his hand to still, to calm its shaking as he reached to check for a heartbeat. It was faint, terrifyingly so, but it was there. He allowed his hope to ride on that.

His face settled to stern determination as he tried desperately to remember the basics of combat first aid they'd all had to attend at some point. Despite his fear clogging his mind, he was able to dig out what knowledge he needed.

He let out a shuttering breath as he leaned down. _Breathe._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

He never realized how _good_ coughing could sound as he rolled Hanzo to the side. Once turned, water flowed from the archer's mouth. It was a sickeningly large amount. As the last of the water was pushed from his lungs there was a sharp gasp, followed by slow, quick inhales. 

Hanzo was breathing. As McCree rubbed Hanzo's back, he realized the man had begun shivering. He leaned close, speaking softly and only to Hanzo as he heard the engines of the evac flying in. "....'sokay, darlin'....I'm here..."

~~~

Flashes of blurry memories pushed through the darkness in Hanzo's mind. He just wanted to sleep. He felt calm. He felt still. He felt...nothing. He just wanted to stay here, to exist in this peace, in this nothingness.

_"...ya really didn't have to, Hanzo..."_

A warm laugh.

That voice... It was so familiar.

_"You seem to have a fondness for gaudy trinkets, Jesse. I thought you would like this one."_

His own voice. But it seemed so distant. Like hearing it through a wall.

Why was he remembering this? He slowly realized the cold peace he'd grown complacent to and even began to desire was starting to feel warm. With that warmth came feeling. The feeling of a soft pain in his chest.

_He'd noticed the belt buckle while passing a window. A thought crossing his mind as he smiled softly. A golden dragon. It was his way of a joke. In no way had he expected the man to actually wear it. When he'd finally taken notice, he could only find himself staring at that ridiculous cowboy in shock. McCree had just winked at him, continuing the conversation he'd been sharing with Lena and Mei as if nothing was wrong._

The memory faded as it had come, surrounding Hanzo in the cold, dark, peace he was growing accustomed to. A peace that he began to find lonely. He found himself longing, if ever so slightly, for more. He wanted to hear that voice again. 

"...Jesse..."

~~  
McCree jerked up at the faint, almost unnoticeable sound, his hand gripping Hanzo's.

Releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding, he stared at the other man's face. His heart broke every second he noticed the heart monitor, the breathing machines. All the tubes and wires keeping him attached to the world. His free hand trembling, he brushed his knuckles gently along Hanzo's forehead, shifting to tuck stray hairs behind the man's ear.

"...'m here, Hanzo...." His voice was shaking, much like his body. He didn't bother to hide the tears pushing from his eyes as his head fell. "...please open yer eyes, hon..." His whole body quaked with a heaving exhale. 

In his mind was a painfully vivid image. When he'd been brought into the medbay, cold and still. Angela had reluctantly allowed him to stay. Mostly due to the fact that even with Reinhardt and Zarya's combined strength, it would have been nigh impossible to pry him from the room.

He sank to the floor as Angela yelled for help. As he heard the monitor flatline, he felt his own heart stop as well. A stillness in his own chest that remained until Hanzo was revived. 

Even now, as he looked at the man, McCree couldn't help but notice how small Hanzo looked. He looked so vulnerable, so very _unlike_ Hanzo that he swallowed hard to stop from feeling his heart break further.

"....Han....'m not strong enough....to lose you..."

He hadn't fathomed his feelings for the stern archer until he watched him dying. He had always known he cared, that he loved, but not how _deeply_ those feelings ran.  
As he watched, helpless, lost, and hurt, all he wanted was to see those eyes open. Open, and fixed on him. 

"...I love you, Hanzo...."

~~

The following weeks were a blur. If not for Angela bringing him food and pestering him to leave for showers, McCree wouldn't be able to say if any time had passed at all. She was courteous to him, reserving a spare bed and even pushing it close so he could sleep holding Hanzo's hand. She hadn't exactly done it of her own volition, but she wasn't keen on the thought of both of them needing intensive care..

McCree was only mildly aware of other visitors, most often Genji who would sit in silence with a hand loosely on his brother's arm. Though he did manage to get mild conversations out of McCree, if only for a minute of thought shift for the man.

In the following moments of silence, McCree's thoughts would wander to random moments with Hanzo. Memories of a livlier man, not the withered body tethering him to the world. Training, conversations over tea, their first meeting...

As for the meeting, saying it was tense was an understatement. The man had been statuesque in more ways than one. That wasn't to say the man wasn't attractive, but Hanzo looked like he had a stick lodged so far up his ass, it had replaced his spine. The archer had been stiff and rigid, regarding McCree with cold politeness, bowing in place of accepting the hand McCree had offered.

The others all but avoided him. Knowing about the history with Genji and his demeanor didn't exactly welcome friends. McCree, however, had seen something in those eyes whenever he managed to steal a glance. A shimmer of deep sadness and a strong regret. A man so intent on living in painful lonliness that it damn near broke him.  
Hanzo was a broken man. A _stubborn_ , broken man.

McCree had done his best to extend his friendship to him. Sharing drinks on a moonlit roof, sitting quietly on the couch just because, sharing stories over a breakfast that they'd managed to avoid the crowds for. And Hanzo? He would listen.

The first time he'd made Hanzo laugh was a memory he treasured. It was small, and reserved, hesitant, but it was genuine and McCree had beamed about it. _"...well, now...the great, stoic dragon has a sense of humor..."_ Hanzo's smile had faded, but McCree would take a victory where he could find it.

The memory faded, leaving McCree painfully aware of the reality he was in. The careful beeping of the monitor broke his reverie. He had his chin resting upon his arm along Hanzo's bed, the other stroking small circles on the back of Hanzo's hand with his thumb. He linked his fingers with Hanzo's limp ones. He smiled weakly, if only to stop from losing it again. 

"...why ya gotta look so peaceful...and so broken...sweetheart, I ain't got much left in me...and I'd give it all to hear that laugh again...." He closed his eyes, kissing Hanzo's knuckles softly. "....'s lonely without ya...." 

He opened his eyes suddenly at a subtle movement against his hand. He stared, unable to comprehend what he saw in the dreamlike daze he found himself in lately. Hanzo's fingers were weakly, slowly closing around his. He laughed gently. "....there ya are, darlin...'m right here..."

~~

Hanzo was faintly aware of a feeling in his hand and a soft rumble, like a voice talking low. He couldn't quite make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable. The voice brought him comfort, chiseling through the cold. With what he could muster, he focused on returning that touch, on grasping onto something solid outside this darkness that held him as a complacent prisoner.

_".....pretty handy with that bow..."_

Another memory. Welcoming the escape from this nothingness, Hanzo allowed himself to be overwhelmed by it.

_He'd been startled, turning to see that grin that made his heart beat fast. McCree laughed a bit, stepping onto the training grounds with that smirk lingering. "I...have had years of training. It would be expected to be...handy...with it." Even Hanzo himself didn't miss the flustered tone. Calming himself, he turned back to the targets, readying another arrow and firing. The shot was clean, sailing through the air as if magnetized to the target._

_McCree seemed in awe as he watched him. Hanzo could feel his eyes. He shifted his eyes to glance at the gunslinger, firing a scatter shot at three dancing targets as he spoke. "I will be done in a moment, if your desire is to practice." An impressed whistle was the only response he recieved from McCree as the three targets fell. He lowered his bow, turning to face McCree completely as the other man spoke._

_"Actually, if you don't mind, I was kinda hopin' you'd...ah....show me how to..." He noticed McCree gesture towards Stormbow. Eyes following the movement, he glanced down at his weapon himself. He offered a wary look as his gaze returned to the cowboy._  
After a moment of contemplation he straightened, unable to help the small smile as he looked back to McCree. "Very well...."  
There was still a moment of hestitation, but he offered the weapon to McCree. McCree accepted it gingerly, as if he would break it by touch alone. Hanzo only laughed. "You will not be able to hit anything if you do not actually grip it." 

_He had thought McCree had asked to merely make conversation, but he was hanging onto every word, listening to every critique about stance and technique. He did his best to hide the flush on his cheeks as he got close, incredibly close, to help with arm and hand placement._

_McCree was clumsy -- as expected -- but he managed to hit targets. It seemed he was a quick learner. Hanzo had to look away quickly when he was caught staring at the man, who offered a ridiculous grin in return. A grin that turned to a laugh. "...hey, I hit somethin'! Maybe I can hide in the shadows with ya soon, Han..."_

When did he allow himself to be so comfortable with that nickname? So informal, and yet so incredibly endearing....

_He felt his face grow warm. "Indeed, but that is enough for today." McCree looked so dejected at the thought, even giving an exaggerated pout as Hanzo reclaimed his weapon. "We can continue later, if you wish." At the sound of those words, McCree was practically beaming._

_"That'd be swell, darlin'..."_

_Hanzo's grip on Stormbow tightened. That was the first time-- he took a deep breath and settled his nerves. He'd heard McCree say that to others before. It was simply a phrase and nothing more. He could wish all he wanted, but it was nothing. It had to be. Didn't it?_

_He swallowed hard, as he slung his bow over his shoulders. "I believe we are late for dinner." He turned, heading off the training field. He'd smiled softly as he heard the soft clink of spurs close behind._

Hanzo almost felt sad as the memory blurred and faded, like so many others before it. He desperately tried to hold on, even memories enough to keep him company in this blackness from which he could not escape. _One more._ He wanted to hear him. That voice that soothed his rage, to see those eyes that could pierce his carefully built armor and make him feel so open and vulnerable... 

And free.

His hand squeezed against the warmth again and he _swore_ he felt it squeeze back.

_"....it's lonely without yer voice, Hanzo...keep talkin'..."_

Another memory stirred. 

_The hiss of a commlink..._

_He'd been shot. A sniper bullet sliced through his ankle and his leg gave. He cursed under his breath, but felt his heart leap as McCree came on the channel. Even in a dire situation, he still found a way to be cheerily positive._

_"You are a ridiculous man, Jesse McCree..." his tone was a bit more terse than he had intended. Correcting himself, he softened it. He heard laughter nearby. He pressed the button on his comm once more, speaking softly. "...I will not be able to leave here on my own...." He knew his voice was laced with a fear for admitting his weakness, and silently he reprimanded himself.. He looked slowly down to his useless foot, the lights flickering on the prosthesis as sparks from the shot slowly faded. The power lost, the limb just felt heavy now. He glared at it, another curse crossing his lips._

_"You okay, Han...?"_

_He started, looking towards the source of the voice. He nodded firmly. "I am fine, but this..." he sighed as a hand slid down to the locking mechanism "..is not." With little effort, he flicked the locks open, hissing as he slid free from the dead weight, feeling the nerves along the connection light up at the loss of feeling. He froze, feeling the other man staring at him. He knew McCree_ understood, _but he still couldn't bring himself to look at him._

_He withdrew his leg from McCree's line of vision, opting not to look at him as he took in a sharp breath. "You must promise to tell no other. People have a tendency to offer pity where it is not needed."_

_McCree had simply laughed and he whipped his attention to him, his glare sharp. McCree offered a hand up as he caught his breath. "...'m sorry, Han...I'm not laughing at you." He sighed, his laugh softer, but still there. "Yer brother's a god damn cyborg ninja and yer worried about a damn leg...just..." Hanzo winced at the mention of Genji but couldn't help but agree._

_"It is hard to let go of old..." The words froze on his tongue. Hanamura had not been kind and the best description of what he felt was fear. Fear was not something he could admit to. "...habits."_

_He was barely aware that McCree was helping him to his feet until he bent down before him. "It might not be dignifyin' but if you let me carry ya, you won't put extra strain on the other one."_

_Hanzo tensed at the notion, nearly scoffing at the idea of such an act. Still, he relented, allowing McCree to lift him. He found himself unable to stop a gasp at how quick and effortless it was._

_McCree was careful, respectful. He'd picked up the broken prosthesis for repair as he headed out of cover, deeming that it was safe. "We got some good engineer's on our side. We'll get ya right as rain, darlin'..."_

_There was that name again. Hanzo melted, falling near limp against McCree's back._

_"I feel....tired." It wasn't a lie, exactly, but he felt he needed some excuse to be so close. The smell of smoke and sweat was so pungent, almost offensive, but so veritibly McCree. He was smitten._

The memory faded and Hanzo was stranded again in darkness. He was growing frustrated by it. This once complacent peace was now leaving him feeling frustrated and trapped. It was suffocating.

It was a familiar suffocation. An _all too familiar_ suffocation.

Then, glimpses of the ocean.

Of falling...

Of _drowning_.

The fear the darkness had been holding back broke free from its own containment and latched onto him.

~~

McCree felt Hanzo tense, raising his head in worried confusion as he watched the archer's face contort. He jumped to his feet when the monitor started beeping alarmingly fast. This broke the cowboy's blurred existance. Hanzo's chest rose and fell quickly. Too quickly. The breaths were strained. Panicked.

He realized Hanzo was having a nightmare. He was drowning all over again. He managed to wrench his head away. "Angie!" he cried out.

He knew the call was pointless. The rapid clicks of Dr. Ziegler's heels were already fast approaching. 

McCree's hand was like a vice in Hanzo's. He stepped to the side to allow her to work but never let go. 

He watched with fear as she did.

Despite McCree's opposition, she'd been forced to sedate Hanzo. In his panic, his lungs weren't getting air. She stressed that they wouldn't be unless he was relaxed. There were no other options. She'd refrained from berating him for his stupidity, a gesture he'd appreciated. But his heart sank as the fingers laced with his own loosened. The sedative was taking effect, and the rapid breathing slowed to an almost sleeplike rhythm.

The hand McCree gripped was once again limp.

He looked down at that broken, stubborn pain in the ass. That _beautiful_ man and he broke.

He feel to his knees, gripping Hanzo's hand between his own as he pressed his forehead against what exposed flesh remained. 

"I can't do it, Hanzo...Darlin' ya gotta come back....So you can hear me tell ya..."

His voice broke, shaking under wave upon wave of unrelenting tears.

When his voice returned it was soft, low. A voice meant only for the man he clung onto so desperately.

"That _I love you_ , Hanzo Shimada...."


	2. Tethered Spirit

The weeks faded into months. McCree couldn't be sure of the date anymore, time blurring into how light it was in the room without aritificial flourescence. He'd noticed the others began visiting more, though for whom it was unclear. They offered him looks of pity, and left mementos on the small table near Hanzo's bed. Flowers and cards they weren't even sure the comatose man would ever see.

Angela -- reluctantly at first -- enforced a 'no flowers rule' as cleaning up dying bouquets and stale water had grown to be a nuisance. A rule with only one exception. She allowed Genji to bring his brother flowers native to their home. He had been at a loss at what else to do.

McCree had fallen uncharacteristically quiet, his focus only on Hanzo. Angela had pushed him to take care of himself. She urged him to sleep, to eat, and -- most importantly -- to bathe. He always resisted at first, but Genji always seemed to be there to add his two cents. Damn cyborg needed a beeper.

"When he wakes up, I am sure he would appreciate not being killed by your stench." 

The words were light, teasing, but McCree always relented due to their meaning. Hanzo would probably spend his first words awake berating McCree for his lack of hygiene.  
With a short, hollow laugh, McCree acquiesced. But only as long as Genji stayed with Hanzo. 

~~

In time, McCree became painfully aware of the hope having faded from the others. Visits dwindled, and the mementos stopping altogether. Genji, however, never relented. Inversely, his visits steadily increased.

Angela never lost hope and honestly, that was all that mattered for the time being. It gave McCree something solid to grasp onto.

He began to idly tell stories to Hanzo. Old stories that he barely remembered. Tales from when he was a kid -- old west 'history' as he'd put it -- anything that came to mind.  
After a while, McCree even started singing to Hanzo, holding a cold hand in his own warm one. The pad of his other thumb idly stroked against Hanzo's cheek as he did.

His song stopped abruptly when he felt the hand weakly squeeze back again. Three months of nothing and suddenly there was a response. 

Noticing the sudden silence and how McCree had brightened, Angela flitted over with a tablet in her hand. She began to carefully examine Hanzo. A response! Hanzo was fighting and that was all she needed. Baby steps. But even baby steps in the right direction were progress.

McCree stood, filled with renewed vigor. He ran his fingers through Hanzo's hair, mumbling small words to him. Endearments, nicknames, all peppered between pleas of 'wake up, please, just one little eye'. He said it so many time times that it was damn near a mantra.

To their continued surprise, Hanzo's body weakly stirred, if only barely. McCree beamed. But even in that genuine expression, sadness still pulled at the corners of his eyes.  
"C'mon....just....one time....Look at me again, sweetheart...Yer breakin' me..."

~~  
For once, Hanzo could hear voices penetrating the silence of his dark prison.

Faint, distance, muffled voices. But familiar voices all the same. Angela...Genji.... _Jesse_...

He tried to call out to those voices, to tell them he was there, only for the words to die in his throat. He still felt as though he were floating. Still in the darkness that had long since lost its warmth.

_"Jesse McCree, if you do not return, I will kill you myself..." The words were firm, but held no venom._

Another memory. It was more pronounced. As Hanzo focused on it, it became more solid still.

_"Don't worry yer sweet head, I'll be fine..." McCree drawled over the comm. Hanzo cursed under his breath._

_Knee deep in a Talon ambush and McCree just had to run off. At the very least it wasn't for nothing. Lena and Lucio had been backed into a rather crude, quickly dissolving hiding place. Hanzo knew the man couldn't help himself when it came to helping the team, but the least McCree could do was stay_ in sight of him. 

_Hanzo was surprised at just how quickly he'd lost track of the cowboy. Though only for an instant, it still forced the archer to loose a sonic arrow to follow what path he'd taken. Despite having the high ground, it was a necessary measure._

_Luckily, it hadn't ended badly. McCree had dispatched Talon quickly, allowing the trapped teammates to get to safety._

_Hanzo paused, watchful eyes scanning the area before he dropped down._

_McCree offered a smile, only for it to vanish at the sheer anger on Hanzo's face._

_"'M sorry, darlin'...I just couldn't--"_

_McCree had been cut off abruptly as he felt a sharp sting on his face. A sting forcefully whipping his head sideways. Slowly, he looked back to Hanzo, his mouth hanging slack with surprise._

_Hanzo had slapped him. Hard. He dared to look into those eyes and the anger bored into his soul. He was seething, but with careful inspection McCree noticed a slight wetness. Hanzo was holding back_...tears?

_"You are too reckless. You could have died and you did not care. Go off and die on your own, Jesse McCree. I will not mourn you." The words were harsh and cruel, but his voice was quivering._

_McCree had run headlong straight into agents that Tracer was having trouble containing at such close range. He could have been shot. He could have been seriously hurt.  
He could been_ killed.

_In that moment, that fraction of an instant, Hanzo became painfully aware of just how deeply he cared for this foolish cowboy. So much so that it hurt deeply when he thought about bringing home his corpse._

_He turned on his heel and stormed away. Behind him rang McCree's calls of his name. His response breaking into a sprint. That sprint slowed a run. Once he found himself alone, he allowed the tears to fall._ I am not strong enough to mourn you. _Those words, the chance of that becoming a reality, brought a pain to his chest. He was in love with Jesse McCree and it hurt._

The pain remained even as the memory faded. He tried to call out again. Like before, his voice failed him, lost in the infinite darkness. 

The warmth in his hand, his _real_ hand, was strong. He did his best to cling to it tightly. Something told him it was McCree. That same something told him if he didn't cling, he would lose this battle. If he let go, he would die. 

But Hanzo didn't want to die.

He wanted, more than anything, to live.

If not for himself, than for that ridiculous cowboy that had stolen his heart.

~~

If not for his staring, McCree would have missed Hanzo's eyelids fluttering. He took in a sharp breath and held it. He only released it when he noticed an eye crack open, ever so slowly. 

He could tell Hanzo's vision was unfocused, his pupils struggling to account for light after months of darkness behind his eyelids. But there was something and McCree found himself calling for Angela with a giddiness of a school child.

Angela seemed wholly shocked at McCree's behavior, approaching slowly with concern more for him than the comatose archer he stood vigil over. The feeling vanished, and she kicked up her speed when he heard "...his eyes opened, Angela...."

She stared intently at Hanzo's face, studying it, running the light carefully to check what he could see. His eyes were out of focus, following the light with a slight delay. But they were definitely open. "It is... something. Definitely positive..." she resigned. She let out a sigh, a mix of relief and ongoing frustration.

McCree looked back to Hanzo's face and almost stumbled back. Hanzo's eyes, however unfocused, were locked onto his.

~~

Hanzo became aware of the fading darkness, light prodding harshly at the corners of his vision. With that light, there were colorful blurs around him. 

Something shifting, hovering, the color of dark honey. 

Something bright, moving fast. 

His eyes clenched at the very harsh, very white light passing his vision before shifting once more to try to focus on that honey brown.

Something nagged at his mind. This blur, despite being shapeless, seemed so familiar, so warm. He wanted to reach for it, to touch it, but his arm disobeyed. It seemed too weak to move. How long had that darkness held him? 

The thought of what it was passed briefly through it and he knew what this blur was.

Jesse McCree... That was his name, wasn't it?

His lovable cowboy that had effortlessly torn down years of walls he'd built around himself?

But before he could prod at this sudden uncertainty, his eyelids felt heavy once more. He took in a sharp breath, becoming aware of something very much in his throat before he found the darkness returning to claim him once again.

~~

McCree nearly cried out in desperation as Hanzo's eyes slid closed once more. He gently tapped the smaller man's cheek as he clung a little too hard to Hanzo's hand. "Hanzo, don't do this... Don't you dare go back to sleep....Yer long past beauty sleep, darlin'...Just...Hanzo, no..." He fell against Hanzo's chest, defeated. His body shook with silent sobs, but he was adamantly careful not to knock any equipment loose.

Genji had arrived for his usual visit, but stopped next to a now dejected Angela. He felt like he'd intruded upon something. He placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder, his voice soft. "If he is too weak to fight, how far will hope get us?"

Angela jumped, not noticing him enter. Surprise subsiding, she sighed, tilting her head to the side. "It can go miles. I remember a similar reliance on such a thing with a Shimada before." She responded in an equally quiet tone. Genji offered a small laugh before his grip tightened ever so slightly. 

"I will hope, then. For them both."

~~

Angela watched McCree spend hours laying against Hanzo. Holding his hand. Idly running fingers along his arm. He was speaking softly. He even began singing again, seemingly comforted by Hanzo's heartbeat.

Genji had made a comment about how pitiful they both looked and, at the time, Angela had reprimanded him. In the back of her mind, however, she knew he'd been right. McCree was broken, barely aware of anything but the man beside him.

"Now would be a good time, Hanzo...." She muttered futily under her breath. Even with her concern for them, she couldn't help a note of annoyance.

She felt even the hope she clutched beginning to waver. This couldn't go on forever. Resources were limited. She would give it time, as much as she could. She set her jaw as she realized that she had to set a deadline.

As much as she hated to admit it, Hanzo's _life_ had a deadline.

McCree would not take this news well.

~~

Angela was right. He had not taken the news well at all.

McCree had terrified her. She found herself regretting that she'd been right. The only thing holding separating them was Genji's hands on McCree's broad chest. His eyes glared with fiery rage at the doctor. "Don't you fucking _dare_ tell me that you're givin' up on him. You're just tossing him away like the fucking garbage."

She was no stranger to emotional significant others, but this was a different beast entirely. McCree was more akin to a rabid wolf pulling a thin leash. She kept her expression stern and calm, but she couldn't deny she was afraid. "I am not saying that I do not care. If I had the choice I would keep him here as long as it takes. I am saying that resources are _limited_ and the longer he lays there, the less chance he will have of getting up _again_. Jesse McCree, he is already on a ventilator that I can confidently say is the only reason he is breathing. We simply cannot keep him in this state because you wish it so."

McCree snarled, attempting another lunge at the doctor. Genji was strong. He held fast even against what should have been superior weight. She would have to thank him for his help later. "Resources? _Resources?_ All the missions we take on and all that other shit and you want to kill him because of _resources?_ "  
She sighed rubbing her temples. She opened her mouth to respond, but Genji's voice stopped her. 

"Jesse. Stop. It would not be fair to Hanzo to force him. He is fighting but even Hanzo Shimada has a limit. If he cannot break free, then you are merely sentencing him to eternity in a cold hell."

Genji's words stabbed him like a dagger of ice. His chest tightened, his heart beating in his throat to avoid the metaphorical protrusion. He swallowed hard as he sank back down to the bed, shakily taking Hanzo's hand once more. "Just... more time, Angie?" His voice was shaking and desperate. "Is a few more months too much to ask...?"  
Angela deflated, sitting slowly into the chair nearby. "We can spare a year at the most, Jesse. I can give you that." She couldn't help it. She still watched him like he was a wild animal.

McCree nodded as his heart tightened, planting his lips gently against Hanzo's forehead. 

"...'s fine...."

~~

McCree continued to spend his time lying on the bed next to Hanzo, talking softly and gently stroking his hair.

Angela had protested this. He chose, almost childishly, to ignore her. She had been angry at first, but McCree was actually _sleeping_ with this arrangement. Begrudgingly, she let it slide.

She had to admit there was improvement, though it was slight. And so, hope lived on.

~~

Hanzo was aware the cold darkness was once again warming and slowly getting brighter. He could only hope it would continue to improve.

He felt the motions of a sigh. It was distant; as if it were just remembering how it felt to do so. 

_"...sometimes you are insufferable, Shimada."_

A memory. He wasn't fond of this one. 

_McCree's expression was serious. Serious and angry. Hanzo's chest hurt, his heart sinking knowing he'd caused the smile to fade from the cowboy. It stung more to hear him referred to in such a way by the other._

_"And you are too adamant to try and pry into business that is not yours, McCree." He spat the others name out as if it were cursed._

McCree, was that really his name?

_McCree set his jaw and huffed a breath through his nose before turning away from Hanzo and began walking away._

_His fists clenched, cursing his own pride for making the man act in such a way._

_The question was simple and curious._ "Can't help but wonder, Han...how'd you end up with bionic super legs....?" _Hanzo had grown angry and insulted the man much too quickly._

_He took in a sharp breath and took a few quick strides to close the gap between them, grasping McCree's flesh arm softly._

Why was he suddenly so unsure about the name?

_The other man had turned so fast, his face twisted with such uncharacteristic anger that it caused Hanzo by surprise. He sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he took a step back.  
McCree tried to hold the expression but had sighed, dropping his shoulders, dragging a metal hand across his face. "...shit, Hanzo...it's hard to stay mad when you look like that..."_

_Hanzo averted his gaze, shifting his gaze to look to the ground, swallowing as he began to answer. "When my father died..."_

_The cowboy raised a brow, crossing his arms across his chest as he realized Hanzo was choosing to answer rather than apologizing and slinking off to sulk somewhere._

_"...I found myself thrown into the position of head of the clan. I thought I had been prepared, but it proved to be...overwhelming. I thought I could...run. I was selfish." He swallowed hard, his brow furrowing as the words fell from his mouth. "I did not make it very far out of Hanamura before I was found. The elders deemed it necessary to make sure I could not...." He swallowed, the words hitching in his throat. "...run again."_

_The other man's heart seemed to sink and it took only a second before he closed the gap between them. Strong arms wrapped around Hanzo and he found himself trusting that embrace wholly._

_His head fell against the cowboy's chest, his arms wrapping around the cowboy desperately as his body shook with silent tears. No one else was here. Just them.  
Just...them..._

He found himself trying to call to the man aloud but something was preventing it.

Something more than not being able to remember if the name that was already slipping from his mind was really the name of the man from quickly blurring memories.  
He tensed, feeling the panic as he realized he couldn't talk at all.

His eyes slid open to a bleary darkness and dim lights in his vision. Something warm was next to him. His arm disobeyed as he tried to reach for the source. He tried to shift his head.

He was grateful when it moved, ever so slightly. It was a motion he damn near regretted. There was an unfamiliar weight on his face, causing a soft, pathetic sound to gurgle up his throat.

The warmth shifted. It was above him now, he realized. Tendrils across his forehead, through his hair. Pressure. Familiarity. Kisses?

Mc...Cree? He'd wanted to smile, but the obstruction on his face seemed to prevent it. He opted to just look up at the shadow moving desperately. 

Then another shape appeared.

Lights in his eyes. 

He clenched them shut, trying once more once the light seemed to disappear.

Another regret coursed through him as now everything grew too bright. 

He groaned, faintly. The sound was pathetic. His eyes clenched shut in an attempt to shield from the offending light.

He was now aware of voices, though they sounded as if he were listening from under water.

Underwater... What was happening?

A flash of blue ocean at the thought.

Panic.

There was fast, shrill beeping as strong hands that still managed to feel so gentle willed his panic to settle. It worked.

His eyes were feeling heavy again, and he was starting to give in. But the desperation in the voice he was sure was the man from his memories caused him to open them again, staring.

His vision was clearing. He could make out features now. His eyes. His face. He weakly tried to reach up to touch him, the only movement he managed was a twitch in his fingers. The other's hand was clinging to his in an instant, planting gentle kisses.

He was now aware there were tears sliding down the sides of his face as he watched the man so desperately shower him with affection.  
In the deep darkness, he'd realized how desperately he'd missed this man.

~~  
McCree was laughing, tears flowing in relief as he looked into Hanzo's eyes. Those sad, searching eyes he'd thought all but lost to him.

He lifted a hand to softly wipe Hanzo's tears, while leaning to rest his forehead against Hanzo's. "There ya go, darlin'...So glad to see those eyes of yours, sweetheart..."  
Hanzo's hand twitched in his, and he squeezed gently back.

He wasn't aware how badly he was shaking.

Even so pale, so still, so _broken_ Hanzo had never looked so god damn _beautiful_ to him.

He was, however, painfully aware that Hanzo could slip back away from him any moment so he was clinging to him as desperately as he could without actually hurting him.  
He felt an attempt at a groan and pulled his head back.

"Ya gotta be patient, Han....Ya can't..." He swallowed as Hanzo's distant gaze bore into him. His voice lowering, tone softening. "It's hard for ya to breathe on your own just yet. So ya gotta let this help ya..." He gingerly tapped the respirator, though it pained him knowing it was needed.

He saw a familiar pain in those eyes, as well as a twinge of... confusion? Hanzo hated feeling weak and he was lying here prone and helpless. He brushed hair from Hanzo's face as his gaze shifted to stare at the ceiling. More tears.

It broke his heart to watch, but one thing Hanzo clung to was his pride and he was sure Hanzo felt like he had none right now.

"S'just temporary, darlin'.....you'll be good in no time..."

Despite his words, Hanzo's eyes, half-lidded, continued to stare at the ceiling. His blinking was slow and he could see so much defeat written across the man.

He shifted, pulling Hanzo's hand close to his chest as he pressed his forehead against the other's.

"Han, sweetheart..." He swallowed. "...look at me..."

It was firm, almost commanding, but held no bite.

It failed. Hanzo's eyes looked beyond, to something McCree couldn't see.

McCree's silver fingers ran softly through Hanzo's hair. Tears clung to his eyes, desperate to escape.

He started at the gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned his head. "Ah...sorry, Angie....didn't hear ya..."

She offered a sad smile, turning her gaze to Hanzo. "It is highly possible his is physically awake, but not completely _present_."

McCree's brow furrowed in confusion. "Say what now?"

She gently squeezed his shoulder. "His mind...is not here. At least, for now it isn't."

He was sure his heart would've sunk at her words, had it not already reached a spot where it couldn't drop any farther. 

"That doesn't seem much better..."

He didn't like how her face shifted, so very sad, looking between them with pity. "....in most cases...it's much worse...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Yay! I hope you guys enjoy it thus far! Chapter three is incoming shortly!


	3. Fading Cowboy

Hanzo was aware of words, movement, colors, and of... him. He reached and clutched what he could manage, and for now, that seemed to be a hand.

He would look at him when his mind allowed him to. However, he found moments when he very much couldn't bring himself to.

No matter how much he tried, it was nearly impossible to focus. His mind itself was simply tired. It wandered unfocused and untethered.

_"Han...would you mind...?"_

Another memory. He was distantly aware of the other's hand squeezing a bit harder. He knew that meant their eyes had drifted apart.

_"Of course..." He stepped forward, deft hands unlatching a prosthesic arm with ease._

_They had spent a lot of time together, recently. Harmless. Friendly. Hanzo swallowed, convincing himself it was nothing more._

_He hesitated a moment, admiring the craftsmanship in the joints before handing it to the other man. "One would think you would be adept at removing it yourself."_

_This was met with a hearty laugh. "I suppose ya got a point, but it's far easier with an extra hand."_

_Hanzo felt a faint smile form._

_"I see your point."_

_Of all the things to bond over, missing limbs was not something he imagined would bring a friendship closer._

_This cowboy wasn't exactly hiding his, but, so far as he knew, only he and Genji knew about his own. An engineer somewhere on base helped with technological maintenance, but was told it was more experimental. They had never been told whose they were._

_He hated those days. It made him feel helpless and useless, waiting for their return. McCree always kept him company, distracted him, but it never completely shook how utterly weak he felt._

Again uncertainty interrupted the memory. He found himself questioning if McCree was his name. Did he have a prosthetic limb? He remembered the cool feel of metal in the real word to which he was loosely attached but his detached mind seemed keen on betraying him.

Seemingly satisfied with this level of distrust, his mind flickered back to the memory. A memory Hanzo couldn't even be sure was true.

_Hanzo shifted his weight awkwardly, now acutely focused on those offending appendages. His face twisted into a scowl._

_McCree had caught on and clapped a hand onto Hanzo's shoulder. "Well, since yer here, how about we eat somethin'."_

_Hanzo's expression softened and he nodded. Food, yes. A good distraction. "That sounds nice."_

Hanzo's leg twitched and jarred him fully into reality. He was painfully reminded how light they felt. There was no added weight.

No _feet._

He knew his company caught onto his thoughts when a firm hand gently stroked a tense thigh.

"It's okay, Han.....you know there's no need for 'em in bed..."

His voice was clear, for once he understood that voice and his eyes met his. 

Tears danced in his eyes at the sheer gratitude he felt at being able to see those tired eyes looking at him.

Clear.

In pain.

He tried to recall the name those tired eyes belonged to, calling out to the first that came to him.

_Jesse...? I'm sorry._

The words failed him, but he'd be damned if his body would. He focused on raising his hand, his arm. Shaking and week, his left arm lifted languidly, his hand reaching the other face far more slowly than he desired.

His heart beat faster as McCree's hand desperately covered his, leaning into the touch. "Hanzo..." There was relief in his voice, soft and happy. McCree was clinging to his hand like a lifeline.

His eyes shook as he met McCree's once more, his face contorting into a mild sorry as his fingers twitched against handsome features. His mind seemed to be pushing everything about him out but for some reason Hanzo felt he deserved an apology.

He knew the man would catch his meaning. Knowledge confirmed with a light chuckle rumbled from him.

"Darlin', I can see your pretty eyes. Ain't nothin' to apologize for..."

Energy spent, Hanzo's hand went limp. But due to McCree's near vice grip, his hand stayed against that face. Stayed pressed against that glorious face. He managed to shift his thumb, running it along a tear-stained cheek as his vision shifted out of focus.

No...

He wanted to cling to that moment and his chest tightened. He tried to take a sharp breath. The awful intrusion was frustrating.

He wasn't ready for that darkness again. His hands tensed as he panicked, grasping weaking at that face, at _anything_ as his ears rang with incessent beeping.  
Clear images faded back to blurred shaped and colors. He became distinclty aware of a bright yellow, then desperate touching.

Angela. He was scaring her. He was also scaring himself. The darkness was returning. The suffocating blackness was returning and he didn't want it to take him. He couldn't be sure it would give him back this time.

He did everything in his power to will himself calm, but found his reactions too far beyond his control. The hand gripping his lost hold, his own arm dropping.  
Other blurs he couldn't identify entered his line of vision. Failing hearing detected desperate, angry shouting. Shouting that faded as its source was moved away.  
With a small burst of energy, Hanzo's hand reached out weakly. His eyes tried to focus only on the blurred shape being dragged away. His strength failed him and his hand fell, hanging limply off the edge of the bed.

_Why? Let him stay. Do not leave me..._

~~

McCree was relentless. The sickening sound of metal hitting metal echoed as he assaulted the door to the medbay. His prosthetic hand even punched shallow indents into the surface. "YOU KNOW THIS AIN'T RIGHT, ZIEGLER!" 

He hadn't expected the _good doctor_ to recruit Reinhardt to forcefully remove him. Even worse so without giving an explanation.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING? YOU OWE ME AN EXPLANATION!" He roared, his voice louder than the din from his fist.

He pulled back his arm, preparing for another punch. He hesitated mid-swing at a soft click. The door slid open. On the other side of it, Angela was glaring, her face stern as if about to scold a child. McCree returned with an equally sharp glare and bared teeth, an animal ready to strike. His temper bubbled darkly.

"Your presence may very well kill him." She said firmly, breaking a tense silence.

McCree's eyes narrowed. It was a moment before he spoke, but when he did it was little more than a snarl. "The hell it is."

Her voice raised, as if saying it louder would get the point across. "That panic seemed to be because of you. His heart rate _cannot_ be elevated right now." A small pause. When McCree opened his mouth to protest, she continued. "He is literally not strong enough to handle it. Every time he becomes aware of you, he is set back _days._ "

McCree wanted to fight back. His anger was peaking and if not for the fact that her anger also housed true concern, he would have punched her himself. But his muscles were wound.

His face contorted in frustrated anger. He let out a roar of a yell, whirling to a wall nearby and swinging. The contact rang loud enough to make Angela flinch. "The hell am I s'posed to do then? Just sit and _wait_?" His words were harsh, pushed through clenched teeth. He placed his head against the wall, his body shaking with deflated rage. Defeat replaced the rage, tears bubbling to the surface. "I can't just... _not_ be there, Angie...I need to know that he's still here." He sank to his knees.

There was a long silence between them. A long, almost taunting silence. It was thankfully ended as Angela's clicking heels broke it. She kneeled next to him, rubbing small circles against his back. "Jesse, it is only temporary. A few days. Then...then you can be there." Her voice was tentative, as if she wasn't sure the hope she was offering was real.

McCree's head twitched in a nod, unable to truly accept what she was suggesting. A few days of not being there. A few days of knowing Hanzo was here and he couldn't be there to whisper reassurances. The defeat drained away, and he felt hollow. 

He rose slowly, as if the very act of standing pained him. "If he wakes up, you get to tell him where I am. You get to see how he takes it." The words were soft, but filled with darkness. He knew Hanzo. Angela was book smart about health, but McCree was innately attuned to the matters of Hanzo's heart. He offered a glance, cold, shadowed with his earlier anger. He knew she meant well. Even overcome with anger and betrayal he knew that. But something deep in his gut told him this was wrong. That _this_ was what would set him back. 

He turned slowly. It took all his willpower to begin a crawl of a walk down the hallway back to the main base. "If he doesn't improve..." He whispered as he moved. "I'm not sure how much forgiveness is in me for you..." 

~~

Through the emptiness, McCree found he was still seething. He'd headed to get something to eat, thinking that maybe his emotions hid underlying hunger. Only to realize when he'd arrived, he wasn't actually hungry. He'd just been itching for something to do. Ideally, something with his hands other than punch a well-meaning, but _naive_ doctor.  
He now sat at a table in the corner, alone, idly toying with a half full glass on the table as he stared at nothing in particular. He would weasel his way to the medbay. But knowing Angela, and how she knew _him_ , Reinhardt would be around to block the main entrance. Naivete only went so far.

His brooding met a startling end when he heard the chair in front of him being pulled away. He shook his head to clear away his thoughts. Blinking slowly at Genji as he sat. "You look troubled, Jesse." Even with the mask, he could see a _"What are you doing here?"_ in his posture.

McCree clenched his teeth. "Angela kicked me out. _Physically_." His fist followed the route of his teeth, closing tightly. This was met with a small crash. He looked to his hand to realize he'd broken the glass, covering his prosthetic limb with glass and the remnants of the water he'd idly been drinking. It may have only been water, but it was because the only other option that came to mind had more of a bite to it.

He shook glass and water from the appendage with an exasperated sigh. Letting loose a soft curse, he ran his other hand through his hair. He returned his gaze to Genji. That mask made the man hard to read. But he sat straight, his hands folded on the table. They were pressed a bit tighter as his head tilted down slightly. Genji seemed angry. "Is that so?" He sounded calm, but there was something lingering there that made his skin crawl.

McCree sighed and nodded, his head dropping to a part of the table not covered in glass shards. "I don't know what to do..."

Genji stood slowly, as if steeling himself. "Give me some time, Jesse. I will have a few words with her." 

Before McCree could question it, he was alone again. Some part of him was grateful. He couldn't bring himself to head to his room, or even to stand. So he opted to sit in this lonely corner. 

"Han...wish I could there..."

~~

Angela sifted through papers. She turned her gaze, opting to paw through a few things in a cabinet behind her. She moved to set the papers down, only to find Genji. Sitting as if he'd been there all the while. She blinked at him. "Genji. What are you--"

"For all of your intelligence, Angela, you aren't very wise." He leaned in close as he spoke. 

She knew he was glaring at her. She could feel it behind the mask. A shiver slithered down her spine. His tone felt heavy. "What exactly does that mean, Genji?"

He let out a sigh. He pulled back, but his tone remained hostile. "Your concern is well-meaning, but narrow." He shifted his head, indicating the direction of where Hanzo lay. "He may react strongly to McCree's presence, but his body and spirit aren't in agreement. I can say this: it is that presence that tethers his spirit to this world." He folded his hands together in his lap.

Angela rubbed her temples in exasperation. She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she turned to rummage through more files. "I understand your concern, but I am a medical professional, Genji."

Wordlessly, Genji's hand slapped down on the files. She jumped, looking at him with wide but unfriendly eyes. "What was that for?"

Genji leaned in close. Too close. She felt that unseen gaze searching her. A sign of something to jab at before his hand lifted. He was on his feet, though still on her desk. "I am offering you this as a warning, doctor. If you persist on this course of action, his body will win this war. And when Hanzo dies because of it, his blood will be on _your_ hands." He bowed stiffly and was gone. 

She swallowed a lump forming in her throat at his words. He hadn't said it as a possibility. He was absolutely positive. He had said ' _when_ ', not ' _if_ '. She shook her head. "Nonsense, Angela. Calm yourself, you know what you're doing." She said the words, but after this, she wasn't as certain.

~~

McCree wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but he was sure how he awoke. He found himself painfully aware his head having shifted into the glass on the table. "....dammit..." He lifted his head slowly, looking glass shards on the table now reddened with his own blood. He reached his hand up to carefully pluck errant shards stabbing his cheek. There were only a few, but it hurt like hell to pull them out. He knew he should go see someone about it, that these wounds were liable for infection. But he was not in the mood to face Angela. He stood, pressing a hand to his bleeding face. He grimaced a little at the prickling feeling of eyes upon him. 

He didn't know who was watching, and he couldn't find it in him to care. He pilfered a towel usually reserved for wiping the tables and pressed the cloth to his face. He closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath, turning to head to his room.

His movements were languid and slow. He acted purely on muscle memory as he dragged himself down the halls to his room. 

Once the door was closed and locked securely behind him, he fell against it, sliding to the floor. His legs stretched out in front of him. His hand fell limp, the bloodied towel falling with it. His head dropped as he began to release pent up sobs. "'M sorry, Hanzo....I should've fought to be with you....please don't leave..."

~~

McCree groaned, rubbing a sore head as he became acutely aware of a shrill sound emitting from within the base. It was familiar, he'd heard a few times before. Recently. Where, though? He rose to his feet carefully, pins and needles pricking as blood flow returned to his numb feet. How long was he sleeping there? He rubbed his eyes, then froze. The sound, recognition clicked into place. The emergency call, for doctors when the medbay was low and no comm had been registered for on call.

His blood froze and he stiffened as Athena's voice came through.

"Doctor Ziegler, you are needed in medbay. Code: blue. Patient 43782."

McCree had been right. He couldn't bring himself to move at first. He felt his heart pounding, his stomach sinking. His vision was lost focus, then he felt something else. That once blurry vision became focused and red. A feeling; it consumed him and forced him forward. Down the hall, toward medbay with purpose. Unrelenting rage.

There were people in the halls who saw his purpose. They saw the blazing rage and tried to stop him. He shook free from their grip effortlessly. The emergency called had ceased. Angela was there. _Good_.

The door blocked his way. He punched in what the code had been and cursed when he was denied entry. The code had been changed; most likely to keep him out. He didn't have the time to try to figure out the new one, so he opted for the easier route. He punched through the keypad and hot wired the damn thing. The door flew open faster than the correct code would have allowed.

He hesitated only a moment at the sight before him. Angela, Ana, and even Lucio were all trying to help. The heart monitor wasn't beeping. It was a solid, shrill tone that wasn't unfamiliar in these walls. He felt his face contort, angry and glaring. "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE, HANZO SHIMADA. I DIDN'T COME THIS FAR TO WATCH YOU DIE WITHOUT ME, YOU SELFISH SONUVA BITCH."

His voice was harsh, the medics started and their gaze whipped towards him. It had been effective. The tone stopped, allowing _painfully_ slow beeping to take its place. Angela's face was stern, glaring, angry as she approached him. Without thinking, without remorse, and without care, he had raised the fist.

The _crack_ was sickening as he made contact, causing the smaller woman to stumble back. Lucio called to her, running to check her. He gave him as wide a berth as he could manage, not wanting to face the same fate. Ana turned her attention to McCree, watching him calmly. But it was a calm that held a storm of its own.  
His arms hung heavy, his head falling. He breathed heavy in his anger, shaking with each take of breath. His eyes were dark. Terrifying. The was a Jesse McCree that hasn't existed since Deadlock.

"I warned you, Angela Ziegler. I told ya I'd come for ya." His jaw was tight, his words dripping with venom. With every fiber of anger he felt. "You don't know jack _shit_ for all yer medical knowledge and he _died_ alone." 

Angela's nose was bloody, her cheek swelling as she turned eyes to him, her expression firm. "He is alive, Je--"

"NO THANKS TO YOU!" She flinched, hand flying to her swollen cheek as a spark of fear flashed in her eyes. "He was _dead_ without me here, Ziegler. And he would be dead now if I hadn't come. You did that. You gave him a _death sentence,_ Angela Ziegler, because you have no _fucking heart_." He didn't move, but he sure as hell wanted to. He was shaking, his eyes never leaving hers. 

She shook her fear, rising, almost recklessly approaching McCree. "I did what I thought was best, McCree! I can only do what I know _should_ work!"

McCree growled. "And that shit got ya fucking nowhere. Ya act all high and mighty but you only look at the _technical_ , what can be explained cleanly on a damn _chart_." He took a step toward her, his fist threatening to rise once more. 

"Children, are you quite finished?"

McCree turned his eyes on Ana. Ana raised her head, looking back cooly, calm, and holding an air of motherly disappointment. That one eye uttered a challenge. McCree's eyes softened, his fist uncurling. Angela looked at her with aggrivation, though there was also a small twinge of gratitude.

Ana just stood, one eyebrow raised as she waited for an answer to the hanging question. McCree could only find it in him to nod, his head falling in the shame he felt wash over him. Angela averted her eyes, but seconded the gesture. Ana just stood there. "Good."

She approached, though stopped short of reaching either of them, turning to McCree. "You know what happens when you let your rage consume you, Jesse McCree. I don't wish to see you slip when you have so much relying on you now." McCree caught what she referred to. She'd been directly referencing Hanzo in her words. The realization caused him to swallow and nod. He sure as hell didn't want to mess this up.

Angela was watching him, seeming to gain a smug look. A look immediately wiped away as Ana's voice cut sharp. "Angela, he has a point. You are smart, and yet have so little wisdom." Angela gasped softly, looking to Ana with confusion. "You are so focused on the symptoms and the treatment," she continued, "that you failed to see what was truly at stake. It nearly got the man killed and all _either of you_ can do is yell about it?"

She let her stare bore in a bit longer before she turned to make sure Hanzo was stable. "Get it together. None of this is about either of you."  
The words hit McCree hard and he realized his actions had been a rather selfish. Angela bit her lip, raising a hand to staunch the bleeding from her nose. She turned after a moment, heading toward her office with a stunned and silent Lucio in tow.

McCree cautiously approached Hanzo's bed. He stopped at the side, his hand grasping the rail. He stared. It had only been a few hours and he could swear Hanzo looked _so much worse_. Pale, withered further, a mere husk of what he once was. If it weren't for the incessant beeping, McCree would've been hard to convince Hanzo wasn't already dead.

He felt a tendril of anger well up at the thought that this could have been prevented. A thought that he couldn't truly be sure was right. Hanzo was getting better and Angela had to go and fuck that up. A sinister, possibly logical part of him whispered that maybe this was unavoidable. That with the reaction that caused his removal in the first place, Hanzo might have ended up in this position either way. But McCree was too prideful to give it any sway. He was right. She was wrong. End of story.

Ana patted his shoulder softly. "Go ahead, dear. I assure you, he won't break if you touch him." McCree felt like he'd doubted that, from how fragile the former archer looked laying there.

He sat down, not realizing how bad he was shaking as he took Hanzo's hand, gently squeezing it as he slowly, carefully reached over to stroke stray hairs from that miraculously still _beautiful_ face. 

He was about to lose it once more, but he couldn't help but smile as he felt it. Small, faint, so _disturbingly_ weak, but it was there. Hanzo's fingers squeezed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kidding about Chapter 3 being so quick! It was ready, so I didn't want to wait! (I would forget for a couple days that I hadn't posted it already.)
> 
> Thank you all again.
> 
> Also, my tumblr is mchannerstrashbin.tumblr.com and it's silly, but my friends are dorks and encourage my shenanigans.
> 
> Also, kirozane, my lovely, patient editor, who this would not be possible without. kirozane.tumblr.com
> 
> ~Cori


	4. Fractured Pride

Angela had all but disappeared from the medbay in the following days, leaving Hanzo's care to Ana. She'd hoped that McCree would soften with time, but his resentment held strong. While Ana didn't care much for the reactions, she knew the only one to calm that tempest would be Hanzo.

McCree was grateful for Ana, despite the disappointed eye shot in his direction when he snapped at Angela. He couldn't bring it in him to even consider forgiveness. She'd gently prodded him to care for himself, always sitting stern vigil over Hanzo as he did so. He always came back to her telling stories to him about days in the past and gushing about Fareeha's childhood.

This routine held up for weeks, though Angela's presence had faded. It fell into a sort of comforting routine -- something mindless to follow -- but secure, knowing Hanzo was okay in her care. He visibly saw the color returning to Hanzo and the warmth easing back into his hands in recent days. McCree had even taken to chatting and joking with Genji on a daily basis. 

If the date on the calendar was to be trusted, it had been six months since Hanzo's accident and he had yet to open his eyes again. McCree, however, wasn't deterred. He could see the strength being revived within the man.

McCree walked down the hall after a much needed shower, a large stretch pulling at his torso. He dressed simply in a t-shirt and comfortable pajama pants, slippers clicking against the floor as he made his way back to the medbay. He made it exactly three feet from his room before a bright green blur had stopped him.

"Whoa there, Genji...what's the rush?" Genji was...bouncing. Literally bouncing on the balls of his feet. If McCree was reading the body language right, Genji was beaming a mile under that mask. He was like a child excited to show off his latest creation. 

"Jesse, come. _Now_."

The words were quick. Before McCree had time to respond, he found himself being pulled fast toward the medbay. He audibly gasped as he was jerked into motion, but kept pace none the less. At the very least, Genji was being slower for him.

"What's all this rush for? The medbay ain't goin nowh--" The sentence was accompanied by a laugh as Genji shoved him through the door. The laughing died abruptly as McCree froze. The amused expression changed to one of confusion, as if he could not believe what he saw. He took a shaking step forward, his eyes focused on Hanzo.  
Hanzo's eyes were looking back. 

Not softly, not weakly, _actually looking_ at him. In the back of his mind, McCree could swear there was something different in that gaze, something unfamiliar. His bed was tilted up a bit, allowing the archer a view other than the cieling. Ana looked to McCree with a smile, relieved tears glistening in her own eyes.

McCree made another step, a tentative step he had to all but force from his legs. And another. And another. 

Finding the ability to do so, McCree broke into a run, firmly but carefully wrapping his arms around Hanzo. He planted kisses on whatever part of Hanzo's face he could reach.  
Hanzo emitted a sound; soft, muffled, but audible. McCree caught it and, realizing maybe he was a bit overenthusiastic, pulled back a bit. Still desiring contact, he pressed his forehead to Hanzo's. "Darlin', it's so good to see ya..." he could only choke out the words.

McCree hadn't missed the strange expression on Hanzo's face, but he ignored it. He was just so elated to see those eyes. Hanzo was a awake and he wouldn't let a nagging feeling get in the way of a good thing right now.

~~

McCree smiled his widest smile in half a year when Ana told him the ventilator could be removed. He was holding Hanzo's hand like a lifeline, the archer's fingers weakly twitching. Hanzo's eyes never left his face. They seemed searching, but McCree's attention was elsewhere.

"Remember to take a deep breath, if you can manage it." She offered before pulling gently on the ventilator.

McCree offered an involuntary whistle, not expecting the length of the tube.

Hanzo coughed and sputtered, but managed a few quick, shaking breaths before they became steadier. His breathing strained, but regular.

McCree smiled at that beautiful face, finally unmarred by offending machinery. He leaned down, unable to help himself from kissing those lips. It was quick, desperate and selfish but he needed it.

Hanzo only offered a strange, confused look in return.

Ana apologized, looking to Hanzo as she placed the oxygen mask over his face. "Only for a few days, dear. Until you're stronger."

Hanzo looked to the hand McCree held, resisting the compulsion to squeeze back. If only for the contact, he managed to withdraw it. His brow furrowed, and he took a deep breath to finally push the words from his throat.

"Who....are you?"

McCree's world shattered, a sensation not too unfamiliar to him. His chest tightened, heart leaping into his throat. He froze for a minute, moving only to reach a shaking hand to run through Hanzo's hair. "Th-that's not funny, Han..."

Hanzo jerked his head away, his face contorting into angry confusion. The stare also held offense, and McCree had known the man long enough to see that fear was laced in. "Hanzo." he corrected firmly, voice soft but cold.

Hanzo quietly admitted to himself that something was familiar about the man. Something about him struck him as so warm, so inviting, but the face was so foreign. Nothing about him seemed to trigger a name. He had no memory of this man. This man that was invading his space and being so _informal_ with him.

McCree stood, his hands hovering in the air. He was at a loss at what to do. Tears welled up in his eyes, his mouth opening and closing as words betrayed him. "Hanzo...it's me... It's _Jesse_..."

Hanzo felt something stir deep within him with the name, but nothing else. His expression grew flat, unemotional. McCree knew that mask. He'd hoped to never see it again.  
"I....do not know that name."

McCree's tears fell. He looked to Ana, who offered him a knowing, pitying expression. He looked to Genji, who was stepping forward. Genji looked down to Hanzo, his hands falling to the bed rails. The brother's voice was calm but apprehensive. "Do you know me?"

He was testing Hanzo, seeing how deep this amnesia ran.

It almost sounded like Hanzo managed a slight chuckle. "You are...too loud to miss, Brother."

McCree swallowed. His voice cracked as he managed to speak. "Genji...tell him..."

Genji glanced at him, nodding quickly. He turned his attention to Hanzo. "I almost forgot. Hanzo, this is Jesse McCree. He is a good friend of mine. You should get to know him."  
McCree felt the rage pooling in his stomach. He strode forward purposefully, opening his mouth to protest. "The he--"

Before his tirade could find traction, Genji's hand was over his mouth. The other found McCree's chest, pushing him back toward the door and out. "Excuse me one moment, brother. Jesse can be a bit loud at times." He'd said as they exited.

The second they left the room, McCree threw a punch. Genji caught it effortlessly. He ducked another just as easily. He needed to get out of arms reach for McCree to stop trying to attack and maybe listen, so he leapt to the duct running the ceiling above him, crouching as he stared down at him.

"A FRIEND OF YOURS?" McCree roared once Genji was out of punching range. "GET DOWN AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN, YOU LITTLE SHIT."

Genji said nothing, causing McCree to set his jaw and glare in return. All the darkness welling up within him backed that glare, but Genji remained unfazed. The silence stretched as Genji waited to see if McCree would yell again.

He gave it a couple moments more, then spoke. "Did you really think he would feel exactly the same if I told him the truth?"

The look on surprise on McCree's face told Genji he hadn't thought of that, but his eyes hadn't lost the rage.

"You know Hanzo." He pressed on.

McCree's fists clenched at his sides, the knuckles on his organic hand white from the tightness behind it.

"This is _your_ challenge to take."

McCree's teeth were bared. "I ALREADY DID THIS _ONCE_ \--"

Genji was a blur of green, and before McCree could finish, he was in his face. His mask unnervingly close to McCree's face he spoke, soft but filled with anger at McCree's words. "If you truly love him, you will do it again."

McCree's surprise wasn't missed. The man stood stiff, but his fists unfurled, his hands hanging limp at his sides. He swallowed, but set his jaw and glared at him. He could've told Hanzo. He could've _told him_ what he was. What they were to each other. Instead, McCree was left to pick up his shattered heart _again_ and regain the trust and affection of the man he so desperately loved. 

McCree's rage seethed in his gut. "Don't fucking question my feelings, Genji. I would die for that man."

Genji leaned back, standing in silence before turning on his heels. He waved his hand as he walked away, voice smug as he called back, "Prove it, cowboy."

McCree yelled and punched the wall next to him. Looking at where he made contact he sighed. He'd have to apologize to Winston for the dent later. He turned to face the medbay doors. He sucked in a sharp breath and willed himself to relax. 

It was only Ana and Hanzo in there and he'd be _damned_ if he caused Hanzo to be afraid of him from his anger. He stepped inside, offering Hanzo a stunning smile. He had to put on the best McCree he could. There was sadness pricking at the corner's of his eyes, but he did his best to push past it. "Well, very sorry about all of that, Hanzo. I lose myself sometimes. The whole base has been worried about ya, and I took it upon myself to come check on ya."

Hanzo relaxed his shoulders a bit, nodding slowly. "Thank you." 

McCree's chest tightened at how faint that voice was. Barely above a whisper. "Ah, no need for thankin', darlin'." His voice stopped in his throat, his smile gone as he stared at Hanzo in shock at what he'd said. Hanzo returned the expression with shock and confusion of his own. 

McCree swallowed, tipping his head and regretting not having his hat to hide the embarrassment on his face. "I... uh.... Gotta head out to let the others know yer alright. I'll swing by later, just to make sure you haven't gone all Sleepin' Beauty on us again..." With that, he turned and left.

He walked briskly through the doors. His pace increased as he moved down the hall, until he was at a full run. He needed air. Finally he found himself outside, slowing to a stop at the edge of a cliff near the base.

This was a place he'd shared many sleepless nights with Hanzo, talking about anything and everything, if only for a distraction. He stood there, catching his breath in silence for a long minute before he screamed toward the sky. "What the hell did I do to piss of fate this time!?" He yelled at whatever was up there that would listen. "What the fuck do I gotta do to get ya to leave me alone?!"

He knew that it would all go to shit the moment he was content. Here it was, fate rearing it's ugly head to curse him again. Like it always did. Like clockwork. "Do I not get my own chance to fuckin' be happy for once?"

He swallowed, realizing the source to which this particular anger was rooted. "...Why ya gotta make Hanzo suffer too...?" He fell to his knees, punching the ground. It was a futile gesture, but he needed to hit _something_. "Hanzo... I hope ya can love a broken man... I ain't got a third round in me."

~~

Hanzo was not enjoying this confinement. He loathed his missing limbs more and more with every passing minute. He wasn't used to feeling this weak, this _vulnerable_ , and it was grating on his nerves.

Genji's visits were at least pleasant, though. His brother always did his best to get a laugh or a rise out of him, some sort of emotion to momentarily distract him from his confinement.

He'd gotten other visits from many unfamiliar faces. He'd learned their names from Genji, and from the way they interacted before, he was sure they'd met, but nothing but the faintest sense of familiarity ever came of it.

What he hadn't counted on, however, was the effect that cowboy had on him. The sight of him in that ridiculous hat made his chest feel tight and his face feel warm. He couldn't put it into words, but he found himself grateful for the man's presence.

He also couldn't help how _sad_ the man seemed. He joked, laughed, offered amusing stories to lighten the mood, but he always seemed so lost.

This day, however, was different. His doctor -- Ana, he was told -- had insisted he finally try to get out of bed. "You need to stretch those legs..." 

At his scoff, she raised a brow. "I'm serious. In a literal sense. Your new prosthetics have arrived, Hanzo. You need to work out your muscles."

He closed his hands, looking away defiantly. "I have to do no such thing."

She batted his shoulder. "Nonsense. You _will_ get up and you _will_ work on walking, Hanzo Shimada." She held a firm tone, akin to a mother scolding a rebellious child.

He aimed sharp eyes at her but she wasn't deterred. He sighed, crossing his arms as he sank back down into his pillows. "If you insist."

She nodded. "That's the spirit." She was pushing a wheelchair over. He watched, turning his nose up at it.

He knew he needed it, but it didn't stop him from hating the thing.

There was a long silence, broken with Ana clearing her throat. "While we're young, Mr. Shimada."

She was smirking.

His sour expression didn't change as he looked to her, then sighed. He did his best to sit up, the slight struggle prompting Ana to help. He swung his legs over the edge, opting not to look down at them as he did so. He hesitated, looking at the chair with resentment. It was a familiar, loathsome thing that he'd hoped he'd never need again. He was much younger when he'd needed one last, and spent the rest of his life meticulously taking care of his prosthetics to prevent the need to feel so helpless or at the _mercy_ of another again.

He took in a sharp breath, reaching for it with a twinge of trepidation. His mind muddled by his own thoughts, he was caught by surprise at the sound of the medbay door opening. He missed his hold, gasping as he fell forward. A feeling of fear latched on; fear with a dash of panic. Why? 

A cliff flashed in his mind. Falling to the blue expanse below him. He braced for impact but suddenly felt warm. The impact never happened.

"What...?" He couldn't stop his voice before it came. He opened his eyes, seeing red and a metal limb suspending him just over the floor. He grasped at it, his panic beginning to subside as he looked up. McCree.

"Ya okay, Hanzo...?"

Hanzo nodded, surprise fading quickly from his face. He tapped the arms still wrapped around him. "You are too close."

He swore he felt McCree wince, but he found the cowboy unwinding himself from him. "Sorry. Forgot for sec there..." His voice was abnormally sad. Forgot what?

He hadn't thought this through. He found himself sitting helplessly on the floor. He looked to the chair, then to McCree, lips pursed. McCree raised a brow, and Hanzo looked away. He swallowed, his jaw tight as he knew he had to utter words he didn't really want to say. "I.. could use your help."

McCree smiled softly, stepping forward. "'Course, darl--Hanzo." Hanzo hadn't missed the slip, but only had a second to think about it as he was lifted -- rather easily, he noted -- and placed in the chair. McCree was respectful, remaining in his personal space only as long as necessary, stepping back once he was sure Hanzo wouldn't fall out.

McCree laughed, and it was a genuine one. Not the one he forced through deep sadness that Hanzo was used to.

"I see yer busy, so I'll come by later." He tipped his hat, bowing a bit before he turned to leave.

Hanzo didn't realize what he was doing until he found his hand grasping McCree's wrist.

McCree froze, looking down at his hand with clear surprise. Fully aware of what he did, Hanzo quickly withdrew his from the contact as the cowboy's attention shifted to him. What the hell was that? Why did it happen?

McCree kept his eyes on Hanzo, waiting for, at the least, some kind of explanation. 

Hanzo looked forward, his face stoic as he pulled his hand back to his lap. "I am told I need to walk. If it is not too much trouble, I would appreciate your company."

He admitted he didn't want to be alone. He also knew Genji would only make jabs at him that would inadvertently make him angry if he had been asked.

He knew no one else, and McCree genuinely made him more relaxed for some reason, even if only slightly more than usual. McCree smiled. That, he realized, was something he would like to see more.

"It's nothin' at all, Hanzo. Where ya headed?"

Ana had her arms crossed and her voice had a firm tone. "Angela."

McCree's hands tightened on the handles of the chair as he stood behind it. Hanzo didn't need to look to know the easy smile had vanished.

He took a sharp breath to cool the sudden maelstrom of emotions and his grip slowly relaxed. "Can't you do it, Amari?"

Ana shook her head. "You know as well as I who is the better for this, Jesse." There was no missing the finality.

Hanzo was growing irritated and cleared his throat, glaring only at the door as he crossed his arms. "If it bothers you, I can go on my own."

McCree sighed and relented, reaching down to release the brake and began pushing forward. "Alright, alright... Only for you, Hanzo..."

Hanzo caught the flirting undertones and his cheeks flushed. "You are ridiculous." He was grateful his back was turned to McCree.

McCree laughed, and Hanzo heard him mutter. "Always sayin' that, Hanzo..."

He was sure he wasn't supposed to, but a trained assassin can't really miss it. Especially this close.

They carried on in silence. It wasn't a long trip, but the almost awkward quiet between them made it feel nigh endless. 

The destination was further along the medbay. The pair turned into the doors of a room filled with various equipment obviously meant for physical therapy.

Hanzo tensed and his expression grew angry. Noticing the change in atmosphere, McCree placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "Ya got this, Hanzo. Yer a stubborn ass about this kinda thing."

Hanzo let out a snort, smiling. While he didn't seem to know the man, he seemed to understand him on a deeper level than he usually let people see. Why?

He felt the hand on his shoulder tighten at the sound of clicking heels. Angela, he assumed.

The golden-haired figure stopped, staring at McCree. "McCree," she swallowed, flustered to see him there, "I wasn't expecting you. I... It's good to see you are well."

McCree leaned back, looping his thumbs in his belt, his voice stiff and laced with anger. "Don't flatter yourself, Ziegler. 'M here because Hanzo asked me to be." Hanzo shuddered as he looked up, noting a dark look in McCree's eyes and he denied the showing of another shiver. He didn't like this McCree. Not one bit.

Angela steeled herself and turned, waving a hand to an office. "I have the prosthetics in my office. We can fit them in there and then begin work if they're acceptable."  
Hanzo was in motion again and McCree's breath stuttered as he relaxed. This was going to be a long day.

~~

He was suddenly aware of Ana's warnings. Warnings he had been paying little mind to as she mentioned the wheelchair. He decided he wanted nothing to do with it and tuned her out. Atrophied muscles. She'd mentioned he'd have to get used to his prosthetics from the ground up, as the strength he had once developed was long gone.

Hanzo had remembered needing them, but he hadn't accounted for the feel of their attaching after six months of disuse. It _hurt_. As he tried to stand, his thighs screamed. The nerves where metal met flesh were on fire. 

He fell forward, caught by McCree and he latched to him as he tried to right himself. His legs were shaking, protesting loudly, but he clenched his teeth, his eyes tightly shut as he tried to will the pain away. However, he found pain to be very disobedient.

McCree's hands squeezed his shoulders in a regular rhythm, offering something for his mind to attempt focus on. A thankful distraction as he resisted the urge to just rip the offending appendages off and throw them into the horizon.

Though the thought of someone so close to him as he felt so vulnerable should've repulsed him, he was grateful for who it was. He'd even snapped at the doctor as she tried to help him. He swore McCree smirked at his rough words. Ever the professional, Angela had begrudgingly stepped out, allowing the two to be alone in the office.  
He was breathing hard. He was now grateful for the oxygen Ana insisted he have for the time being; though the dry nose was easier to deal with than a whole mask rubbing against his face.

His fists gathered handfuls of the fabric of McCree's serape. It took more effort still to speak, the words hissing through his teeth. "Too much... It is too much..."  
McCree's hands squeezed his shoulders the anger from before replaced by concern. "You wanna stop?"

Hanzo nodded, cursing at how desperately he needed this respite.

McCree carefully lowered him into the chair. He was quick about removing Hanzo's prosthetics. Hanzo shivered with relief, his brow wet with sweat as the pain subsided, replaced with a dull throbbing. He stared at his hands, clenching the fabric of the robe he wore as he hunched down. The tears he'd tried so hard to restrain fell. "I should be so much stronger than this..."

McCree was taken back. Hanzo was a stoic statue of an assassin. He'd shown very little emotion since he woke up and here he was, completely _raw_ in front of McCree.  
"Ah shit, you _are_ strong. Fer all intents, ya should've been dead..." The word almost stuck on his tongue. He swallowed the sadness that trickled up at the thought. "But ya told death ta fuck off and woke up...." He crouched down, rubbing circles into Hanzo's back. "Pain isn't weakness, Hanzo...and neither are tears...it just means yer human like the rest of us..." He laughed. "The great stoic dragon Hanzo Shimada is human, real and _here_..." 

Hanzo hadn't known he'd needed the words, but he took comfort in them, letting the sobs take their course. McCree kept up the gentle circles, making sure the other man knew he hadn't left.

"Hey, how about we get some air, alright?" McCree's tone was soft, careful, and most of all, calming.

Hanzo nodded, leaning back a bit. His gaze stayed down, hair falling to block his face from view. He preferred it that way. If they passed anyone, he would rather not let them know just how low he had fallen.

McCree remained silent as he wheeled him out, ignoring Angela's protests completely. As the doors shut behind them, the only acknowledgement she got was McCree's middle finger.

~~

Hanzo paid little attention to where they were going, the journey passing in a now relieving silence. When the duo passed through the doors to the outside world, he audibly gasped as he felt the air on his face. 

He closed his eyes against the breeze as McCree locked the chair in place under the shade of a tree. He must have visibly shivered, because he felt a warm fabric being carefully placed around his shoulders. He looked down to see the vibrant red serape that made the cowboy stand out in an almost garish way. He frowned at it, scrunching his nose as he looked out across the horizon. "I do not need your pity blanket." His voice was firm as ever.

" _Serape_." McCree firmly corrected as he shifted to sit on the ground next to the chair. "And it ain't pity that I did it. It's fer yer health." Hanzo glanced at McCree, though the man was looking out at the horizon. He tossed his hands behind him to lean back, relaxing against the tree's trunk. "There's a bite in the air and yer supposed to be in the warm, cozy medbay." There was sarcasm in the tail end of that statement. A bitter venom. Hanzo scoffed, but said nothing further about it, choosing to let the situation sit. 

He heard a click next to him break the calm silence, followed by a smell he was not the keenest on. He grimaced, the smell of tobacco rough on his nose. "Must you do that...?" His voice was quiet, but the exasperation was clear.

"Yes." McCree responded curtly, the corners of his lips pulled into an almost devious smirk.

"You are a crude man, cowboy."

McCree laughed a bit, blowing a bit of smoke respectfully away from Hanzo. "That's not news to these ears, Shimada."

Something about how McCree had referred to him rubbed a nerve and he turned his eyes to the cowboy. "Hanzo." He preferred him to be a bit informal, rather than he hear that name emerge from his lips. It felt so... _wrong_.

McCree eyed him, seemingly searching Hanzo's sincerity, before his easy smile returned. "As you wish, _Hanzo_." He would've been offended at the tone, but he hadn't the energy to put to it after the day's events.

He closed his eyes as the breeze returned, finding enjoyment in the bit of chill that it brought. There was a long silence, accented only by the soothing wind. By the time Hanzo realized he had been saying and doing nothing, McCree was stamping the stub of his cigarillo in the dirt next him. 

He took in a sharp breath, the action causing him to cough a bit before he spoke. "Thank you..."

He heard movement and could feel McCree's eyes on him. He figured it wasn't something that he did often and had taken the man by surprise. "For bringing me here. It is better than wasting away in a hard bed." There was bitterness of his own there. He hated medical facilities. He hated how weak he always felt here. 

He was grateful, however, that this time around, he had company in his misery. Even if that company was a loud, obnoxious cowboy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! It's finally here and I hope to have it on a more regular schedule!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at blanket-hanzo.tumblr.com if you wish to follow. Mostly OW related, with a few other posts sprinkled in.


	5. Painful Reflection

To call the days hard and long would be a kindness. Hanzo would regret rousing each morning. He found himself hoping to be back in the peaceful blackness, but he knew it was futile to try. He was in this state _because_ of that time and he shuddered at the thought of it.

McCree offered a bit of comfort, however little it may have been. He was always there to help, easing the pain when needed. If he were honest with himself, he wasn't even sure why he was putting up with him. McCree grated on a nerve that made him feel as though he were one obnoxious joke away from a bad headache.

Hanzo could find nothing about him that made him want to be around him, but McCree seemed to barrel his way into someone's life with pleasantries and stick thanks to a very _addicting_ optimism.

That was it. McCree made him hopeful. He was allowing Hanzo to go at his own pace, offering a quick jab at Angela's discouraging comments about slow progress.  
Hanzo felt a stab in his chest to know he was doing _anything_ slow. He was supposed to be quick. His speed was something he was proud of. Even if it was his recovery, the word _slow_ caused him more pain than she would realize.

Angela tapped away on a tablet as she observed him from a fair distance, granted by sharp looks and what he could only describe as low growls from McCree.   
She was muttering to herself, but Hanzo's trained ears picked up every word. "The calculations are all wrong. He's a week behind recovery projections..."

Hanzo's teeth clenched and his grip on the bars faltered slightly. _A week behind?_ He was out of practice. His brow furrowed and he lifted himself up.

McCree knew that look well. Hanzo's expression was stubborn determination. He cursed under his breath, knowing not even hell opening up under their feet would get Hanzo to back down. He took a slow, steadying breath as he glared at the doctor, who seemed taken back when she glanced back at Hanzo.

_Shit, Hanzo._ When he shifted his attention back, Hanzo held the bar with only one hand, putting what weight he could onto metal appendages he wasn't quite used to anymore. 

There was sweat pooling on his brow, his grip on the bar turning his knuckles white. He let his expression soften. "...Hanzo, take it easy--"

"I need to make up for lost time. I can forgive a day. Not seven." He took a step forward. It burned, his nerves hissing, _screaming_ . He swallowed. Not yet. Another.

His thighs were shaking, muscles protesting the weight they couldn't yet take. 

Another.

There were tears pricking his eyes. The pain was akin to losing the limbs all over again.

His vision blurred, growing hazy at the edges. His body was betraying him.

"Hanzo, please...this is gonna make it worse--"

"Enough! I told you once, I do not need your pity. Stay silent or leave." His voice was fueled by frustration, much sharper than he wanted, but he didn't intend to apologize.

McCree looked as though he were punched, reeling back and watching in stunned silence.

Another step. His vision faded for a second as the pain surged along his spine. His breath was shaking as he tentatively took his hand off the rail, allowing all his weight onto the limbs.

A mistake. An immediately regretted mistake. 

He couldn't stop the scream that escaped him. It wasn't loud, but it betrayed the pain he was trying so hard to mask.

Angela and McCree both were quick to his side, offering hands to steady him.

He took a deep breath and shoved them both away. "Get away!" He snarled.

The look in his eyes was something McCree had only seen a few times. A fire burning from within that he usually saved for the field, for the heat of battle.  
Hanzo had one focus and impeding him wouldn't end well.

This was something McCree was clueless to try to help. So he opted to step back, watching so very _helplessly_ as Hanzo -- the proud, frustrating, _love of his fucking life_ \-- suffered at arm's length.

Angela was trying to talk to him, but the words fell on deaf ears. Hanzo looked stubbornly forward, his teeth bared as he fought the pain.

The tension was cut with one word. 

" _Brother_ ." Not one of them noticed Genji's arrival, but that wasn't the least bit surprising. 

Hanzo halted, his expression going from pained determination to shock. His focus lost, his legs gave out. He was on the floor, staring at Genji with an expression that McCree couldn't quite determine. He supposed it was something that only Genji was meant to understand.

" _It is okay to flow at your own pace_ ."

McCree sighed. Genji was talking in their native tongue and that meant he wasn't meant to hear the words. He opted to sit in one of the chairs, his head falling back to stare at the ceiling as Genji talked some fucking sense into his brother.

Hanzo shook his head. " _It is unforgivable_ ."

Genji knelt, gently reaching down to slowly unlock and release Hanzo's prosthetics. " _It is time to let go of the teachings of the clan, brother. That is not who you are anymore._ " The right leg detached. He set it to the side. When he reached for the other, Hanzo reflexively pulled back, staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. " _You are Hanzo. Just Hanzo, brother of Genji, skilled with a bow and loved by people who have no sense of self preservation._ " He reached forward as he spoke, unlocking the left as he held Hanzo's attention, placing it with it's mate. He reached back to detach his faceplate as he continued, his eyes never leaving Hanzo. " _You are your own person and even if it takes another year to be ready..._ " He took Hanzo's face between his hands, making sure Hanzo was _looking_ at him. "... _it will be okay_ ."

Hanzo wanted to pull away, but he couldn't stop himself from looking at Genji. Not the cyborg that made him feel uneasy, acting as a constant reminder of what he had done. But _Genji._ The room felt smaller, and he all but forgot the others were there as his hand reached up to grasp at his brother's arm, face contorting in frustration. " _I feel weak_ ."

Genji shook his head, a knowing smile on his face. " _That is foolish thinking, Hanzo. You are alive. You are present. So you are strong_ ."

Hanzo nodded, his hand falling limply to his lap as he turned his head, freeing it from his brother's hands. " _I do not wish to argue_ ."

Genji knew that was his brother's way of admitting defeat but maintaining his pride. After a few more words, Hanzo allowed himself to be helped back into the chair.   
He looked to McCree, whose hat was pulled over his eyes. He seemed to know he was being watched and offered a wave of understanding before Genji wheeled Hanzo from the room with a nod.

McCree wanted to scream, to yell at Hanzo and ask him what the hell he was playing at, but the thoughts died as quickly as they formed. He wanted to tell himself that Hanzo was playing the amnesia card to carry on a lifelong pity party of one. 

McCree knew, however, that Hanzo was too prideful to pretend to have something he'd consider a weakness. McCree let out a stuttering breath, futily willing the tears to stay pent up. He couldn't help it. He had fallen so hard and his heart yearned for that man something fierce.

Here he was, stuck on the sidelines, forced to court the man a second time from the ground up. He would do it, and be damned if he did not put his very soul into it, but it was hard to deny that it was ripping him up from the inside.

" _Fuck_ you, Hanzo Shimada...."

McCree was suddenly aware of a very evident fact. He was now alone in the room with Dr. Ziegler. He lifted his hat, noticing her watching him.  
She swallowed, taking a deep breath and stepped forward. "Jesse, I..."

He sat up, placing the hat back on his head. Maybe a little harder than he should have. "Can it, Ziegler...I don't want to hear anything from you."

She paused, hugging the tablet against her as she sighed. "You cannot hang on to this anger forever, Jesse. It is not good for you." She shook her head.

He offered a laugh, short, thick with disdain. He stood, picking up the discarded prosthetics as he opted to head for the door. "I humbly invite you to _fucking watch me_ , doctor."

~~

McCree hesitated at the door. Hanzo seemed okay with his company, but the man didn't exactly exude a welcoming aura. The mood between them, from Hanzo's end, anyway, seemed more like understanding compliance. It was as though he were tolerated to be around due to some sort of mutual understanding of lost limbs and pain.

He sighed, taking a step forward. The doors slid open as he approached. Hanzo hadn't left the chair. His eyes shifted to hands folded in his lap, his face twisted into a grimace. McCree recognized that look. Indignance. He was probably going to sulk in that chair until Ana reprimanded him about the necessity of bedrest. 

Genji was seated on the bed, resigned to the silence between them. It was clear he wanted to leave, but he also didn't want to leave Hanzo alone.

He looked to McCree as the door slid open. Hanzo didn't so much as twitch a muscle. "Hey...I brought...uh..." He held up a prosthetic leg in an attempt to finish his sentence before opting to set them both by the door. "Thought maybe it best to go at it on your own, rather than in a stuffy room with a tactless doctor."

He frowned on the words. He knew he was angry and that Angela had some blame. He knew, deep down, he was merely lashing out since he had no other outlet. He knew that she didn't deserve so much scorn, but the thought of what she'd caused left a bitter taste that he couldn't clear.

"Angela means well." McCree was visibly startled, looking to Genji. He kept forgetting how silent he was, considering that his body seemed like it would be the loudest damn thing.  
McCree scoffed, pushing his thumbs through belt loops as he leaned back, eyes shifting out the window. "She _means well_ , but look where it got us..." He spoke low, and angry. Genji didn't miss the sadness underneath. He placed a hand on McCree's shoulder, offering him as best a look he could, and silently stepped out.

McCree let out a breath as the doors slid closed behind him. He didn't move, but turned to look at Hanzo. His expression shifted, resisting the look of pity he'd so briefly paused on. Hanzo didn't want pity. He most likely wanted to be alone, but the man was always too hard on himself and dwelled far too long on things to make McCree feel comfortable doing so. "You know...it's probably best that you get in bed...."

Hanzo shifted, glare fixated on McCree. "I did not ask for your opinion."

McCree shrugged, rocking back on his heels. "No one's sayin' ya did. I'm just pointin' out that Ana is a mom and if there's anythin' you don't want, is a worried mom bein' disappointed in your behavior."

Hanzo's lips tightened, but he looked away. McCree knew his words had reminded him of Ana's motherly scoldings and the last thing Hanzo seemed to want right now is something that interrupted the silence he desired.

He seemed to think a moment before sighing, reluctantly looking to McCree. "If you are just going to stand there, you might as well assist me."

McCree nodded, unable to help the faint smile crossing his lips as he stepped forward. McCree would let Hanzo do what he could, making sure he didn't slip as he lifted himself, only offering an arm for leverage at first. Hanzo was struggling and growing angry. McCree had silently grasped the arm bracing his, lightly lifting as Hanzo pulled. If Hanzo hated it, he hadn't let it be known, so McCree took the small victory where he could.

Hanzo pulled the blanket back over himself as McCree opted to plop down in the now vacant wheelchair. He knew there were other chairs around, but he'd opted for the path of least resistance.

Hanzo turned his nose up at the action, his brows scrunching in what McCree could only surmise was disgust. "You are free to leave, now, cowboy." It wasn't a request, the tone conveying it more as a command.

McCree nodded, laughing a bit as he leaned back. "Yeah, anytime I want..." He didn't budge.

Hanzo snorted, though it wasn't much given that the tube running along his face left little room for air to leave. It left what was probably meant as an indignant action to seem more like a petulant child who'd been refused a demand.

Ana was tapping away at a tablet, not looking at them once as she approached Hanzo's bedside. "Jesse, that is not a toy."

Fun was over, Ana was here. He stood, walking around the bed to the chair on the other side. He wasn't graceful as he flopped into it, crossing his arms as he got comfortable.  
Ana offered a smile as she finished what she was doing and set the tablet aside. "Thank you, Jesse." Her tone was grateful, and she looked weary. He wondered what else held her attention outside Hanzo.

She was gentle as she went through the daily routine, checking Hanzo over, recording vitals, making sure all the tubes and machinery were in order, but she hesitated on the final round of questions. She knew how sensitive the topic was, and seemed to roll the words around, debating the worth of pressing now and not waiting.

"How are your muscles handling the prosthetics?"

Hanzo made a low grumbling sound, almost like a growl. "I am behind."

She sighed knowingly, patting his arm softly. "Nonsense, dear. There is no time restriction on recovery."

Hanzo shifted his arm. Though it wasn't rough, it was enough to pull it away from her. He looked away, repeating his low grumbling, but let terse words die in his throat.  
"I suggest you work on it in your own time. Possibly away from Angela for the time being." 

McCree winced. She'd spoken with Ziegler. That explained a lot of her tired expression.

"I can work with you...or you can have someone else, but I must emphasize not trying it on your own." Hanzo turned a glare on her, but her expression was stern. A practiced look that only a mother could master.

He squirmed under that look and nodded, leaning back into his pillows. "I am tired."

She smiled, turning to pick up her tablet and head to the door. "Then I will let you rest. You let me know if Jesse bothers you too much."

McCree winced a bit at the mention of his name, but her words were soft. She was teasing, knowing how he could very well grate on a few nerves by simply existing.

Hanzo's eyes were already closed and McCree became acutely aware of just how exhausted Hanzo must have been. It didn't take long to fall asleep, his expression, for once, peaceful rather than a well-trained mask to hide his emotions.

McCree settled back in the chair, stretching his legs to cross his ankles as he pulled the hat over his eyes. He'd settle for the silence in the room, if it meant Hanzo wasn't pushing him out. He allowed the quiet to settle his nerves and push out his doubts. He let sleep overtake him slowly, shifting his thoughts to more pleasant ones. He wouldn't dwell on the fact that they were past memories, and simply allowed himself to enjoy the warm feeling they brought him. He wanted that feeling to last and he would fight, tooth and nail, and hope Hanzo could find him again.

~~

Hanzo was aware of colors, blurs fading through fog. He couldn't be sure if he was awake or still lost in sleep.

He could hear movement and voices, though it was at a distance, full of static like a broken television.

He could even recognize that of one Jesse McCree, though that drawl was hard to miss. 

"...nice to know you got my back out there, Hanzo..." Muffled words came before the statement, and more after, but he could only make out _these_ words. Something in him felt warm at just hearing him speak. _Why?_

He heard his own voice respond, but it was terse and well-disciplined at hiding emotions. "You are not so bad yourself, cowboy." His tone was lighter. Was he familiar with this man? This wasn't merely a dream, there was something buried deep in his mind that was trying to fight forward. The faded sound of footsteps on hard floor and jingling spurs told him it was losing.

He wanted to reach out, to grab it and pull it closer. There was something in there, something that told him he had forgotten. _Forgotten what?_

"...Jesse..." The name felt so familiar and yet so foreign on his tongue. He hadn't even intended on speaking it. His eyes focused on the fluorescent-lighted ceiling of the medbay, he could see his hand raised up. Had he actually reached for the dream? The memory?

His vision faded and refocused, his sleep addled mind trying to decide if he should wake or sleep. He felt a hand grab his, pulling it gently against the bed. It was warm. Was it Ana? He squeezed it softly. It was too big. So familiar.

McCree.

He felt his hand twitch, trying to pull away with a futile, weak effort. He scoffed at the invasion of personal space, but he didn't have the energy to fight it.  
He felt cold metal digits against his face, lightly moving hair from his eyes. Why was this man so insistent on being so _close?_ Was personal space against his religion?

He scrunched his brow as his eyes closed once more. "Must you be so close, cowboy?"

He almost lamented the loss of the warmth in his hand as he heard McCree step back. "Sorry, Hanzo. Just makin' sure you're alright is all." 

Hanzo swallowed, causing a small cough to interrupt the action. "Thirsty..."

"Ah...right....Ana said ya might be." He heard McCree walk away, then shortly return. His eyes opened as he felt something touch his lips. He was about to be offended before realizing it was simply a straw. McCree was leaning with one hand on the rail of his bed, the other holding the cup steady. 

Hanzo tried to reach up to grab it, but couldn't find the energy. How long had he been asleep? He greedily began to drink, though he quickly regretted it. He coughed hard, breath catching in his lungs. McCree pulled the cup away quickly, patting his back as the cough subsided. "Easy there...maybe small sips would be better."

Hanzo nodded as he leaned back, against the pillows, following the advice as the straw was returned to his lips.

McCree set the cup aside at the signal Hanzo had enough, and shifted back down into the chair near the archer's bed.

Hanzo stared at the ceiling a moment longer, lost in trying to make sense of time, before giving up and eyeing McCree. "How long this time?"  
McCree offered a defeated laugh. "Two days. Must've needed it."

Hanzo scoffed. More time lost. He then found a question crossing his mind. "Have you been here the whole time?"

McCree shrugged. "More or less...."

"Have you eaten?"

"Enough." He looked away. This clearly wasn't the first time he'd been asked this.

"That is not an answer, Jesse McCree." His voice was stern, his eyes boring into the man.

McCree shifted uncomfortably before sighing. "Once. I ate once."

"Go eat something. And shower."

McCree feigned hurt. "Ah, you wound me, Hanzo. I can't smell that bad."

Hanzo closed his eyes. "I said nothing about your smell. However, you _look_ like you need it."

McCree smiled. "If one didn't know better, I'd think you were _concerned_ for me."

Hanzo raised his brows, a smile pricking at the corners of his lips. "I simply desire to have you _presentable_ in my presence." His words seemed harsh but his tone was light, teasing.

McCree held his hands up in mock defeat. "Very well, Hanzo Shimada. I shall preen myself to perfection for you." 

It made him happy, even a little, to hear the warmth in McCree's tone. He sighed as he listened to the sound of boots and spurs fade behind the medbay door. 

He shivered. The room felt a bit colder without him; and far more lonely. He found himself hoping the man would return quickly, if only because he distracted his thoughts and he welcomed such pleasant intrusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow my tumblr: http://blanket-hanzo.tumblr.com/
> 
> I'm trying my best to get these out to you all as soon as I can. Thank you all for your patience!


	6. Hearts Awoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your patience is rewarded this night.

Hanzo had taken the words to heart. Over the next few weeks, he did his physical therapy at his own pace. Angela had absolved to bite her tongue on comments about his recovery, instead finding pleasure in just seeing him progress at all.

The pain dulled and he found himself able to walk on the limbs, though he still relied on help to do so. Genji had offered his aid, but Hanzo found himself requesting assistance from McCree. He made excuses about McCree's taller stature being an advantage for the situation, but inwardly, he found himself comforted by the man's presence.  
His sheer positivity and the aura that he seemed to radiate made him feel warm and determined. He felt less inclined to just give in and admit defeat against the pain that wracked him. Now he felt determined to overcome atrophied muscles that left him so reliant on someone's aid in the first place.

He'd reluctantly began to let McCree attach his limbs, his hands still awkward from lack of use. Thankfully Angela was helping him with regaining strength in them. McCree offered a hand. Hanzo took it, carefully standing on ever shaking thighs. He felt them very nearly give way, his face flushing when he felt a strong arm come around his waist. It was an act that had been repeated so many times, a hand around his waist for support as Hanzo wrapped his own around the other's shoulders. Still, time and time again, the touch felt warm and he invited it. Why did he react this way? _He barely knew him._ He took a deep breath and took a shaky step forward, and then another.

They fell into a slow pace, but still it was steady. McCree had begun telling stories about the others, day to day antics that made him laugh or just seemed interesting at that moment. Hanzo barely paid attention as his focus was on staying upright, but he appreciated just hearing his voice. 

He admired how dutifully McCree dedicated time to him, when he had no obligation to. McCree, who seemed like he needed a muzzle to stop talking, would sit in contented silence with him if he so much as asked. Hanzo didn't talk much, but when he did, McCree seemed to hang on every word. The look in his eyes when Hanzo spoke to him seemed to hold a childlike awe, and he couldn't quite place why it was.

He looked up, and found himself just watching him. For the first time since they had been introduced, he really _looked_ at him. Though there were creases near his eyes belying his age, it was the only thing. His face was still youthful, in a sense. His beard seemed scruffy, but maintained. Purposeful. Hanzo didn't notice he stopped, barely registering those eyes -- those sweet, _entrancing_ eyes -- looking back at him. His heart lept to his throat. He'd been caught staring and almost felt shame, instinctively taking a step back to distance himself from the situation.

In that moment, he forgot a crucial detail. He could barely balance, and the sudden motion caused him to fall back. He braced himself for impact with the ground, but found himself caught. A hand grasping his wrist, an arm around his waist. He found himself entranced by those eyes again, eyes now filled with concern.

"You alright, Hanzo?"

Hanzo barely nodded as McCree pulled him upright. He found himself unable to look away, and so utterly confused by _why_. This man was stirring something within him he long believed impossible and it made him flush and shiver. _What the hell is wrong with you, Hanzo?_

He barely parted his lips to speak when he found himself interrupted by the other. It wasn't at all a slow kiss, in fact there was barely contact, but Hanzo found himself stiffening against it, caught in the shock of the moment. 

McCree pulled back, his expression shifting from confusion to someting akin to mortification. He pulled back a little further, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

"Ah...sorry..."

Hanzo lifted one of his hands to touch his lips. It was wholly unexpected, but he couldn't say it hadn't been entirely unpleasant. He scrunched his brow tight, his head shifting as he tried to process the situation. "McCree....what--?"

McCree cleared his throat, interrupting the thought and stepped back further. "I...didn't mean to. I crossed a line, Hanzo. Let me go get Genji to help you." He made sure Hanzo was balanced, the archer pressing a hand to the wall before McCree briskly walked away. It was clear in the way he moved the cowboy wanted to run.

What had just....?

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there before Genji had showed up, but judging by the ache just under his knees, it had been a few minutes. 

Genji tilted his head, catching Hanzo's odd behavior immediately. "What happened?"

Hanzo looked at him, still turning it all over in his head. "He... kissed me."

Genji was silent at first before snorting, his body shaking oddly. He was holding back laughter. "Is that _right_?" He reached forward, allowing Hanzo to balance on him as they walked back to his bed. "Let's get you back, brother."

Hanzo sighed, resigning to walk back in silence. 

~~

McCree was pacing in his room. He ran a hand down his face and silently cursed under his breath. "What the hell was I thinkin'?"

He groaned at the thought. He'd given in to temptation and kissed the man who'd forgotten him. Hanzo believed him just a friend and he'd _kissed_ him. He crossed a line and feared that any progress he'd made with the archer had been lost.

He stopped, taking a sharp breath. He couldn't just hide away. Even if he scared off getting further with Hanzo -- a thought that made his chest tighten -- he still wanted to help him.

He stared at the door, contemplating giving it a day, before resigning. He headed through and walked back to the medbay. He had to face this mistake, and he couldn't avoid Hanzo forever, even if he really wanted to.

~~

Hanzo had barely registered returning to bed. His prosthetic limbs were carefully removed and set in their place near the door, tucked out of the way. Genji had already stepped out, though it barely registered Hanzo's notice that he was there to begin with. He stared at his hands, idly reaching up to touch his lips as the thought of what had just occured stayed stuck firmly in his mind.

Had the cowboy really kissed him or was it merely an accident? It certainly hadn't _felt_ accidental. Had McCree been caught up in the moment? Perhaps that was the case. There was, however, something painfully and undeniably familiar about the feeling.

His mind flashed blurs, colors, and a feeling of warmth. A memory it couldn't find of someone forgotten in the inky blackness. The sensation of it was similar to the moment their lips touched, something he'd unexpectedly enjoyed.

He found himself wanting to kiss the man, to see if the warmth was fleeting or something more was lurking there.

The sound of the door opening snapped his focus to the present, making him keenly aware he was still touching his lips. He looked up, taking in a small breath as his eyes locked with McCree's. 

McCree wore a smile as he walked toward the bed, but his eyes held trepidation. There were conflicting emotions spinning around in that man, and Hanzo creased his brow in confusion. He could tell the man was talking, but he wasn't focusing on the words, knowing full well they were merely an apology for the 'accident' earlier.

Perhaps that was it, McCree felt he'd crossed a line.

Hanzo reached out for him, the curiosity pooling within him. "McCree... I... have to see something. Please...forgive my actions." He grasped the man's serape, gently pulling him closer. McCree offered no resistance, even as Hanzo's hand slid behind his neck. 

Hanzo pulled him gently, leaning up only a bit to meet him. When their lips touched, he felt it again. That warmth filling him, his nerves tingling lightly. It was... very pleasant. McCree tensed at first, surprised at the action, but relaxed into it, bracing his hands on the bedrails, unsure of what else to do with them. He hadn't wanted to step across any more boundaries at this point.

When Hanzo pulled back, he looked into McCree's eyes. He could see a bit of confusion, but there was also happiness swirling in there. Did McCree want this?  
Hanzo's hand pulled back, and he nearly jumped at how quick the cowboy's hand grabbed his arm. It was gentle, caring.

He blinked at him, flexing his hand under that grip. McCree turned his head and kissed his palm. "Forgive my actions, darlin'. But would ya mind just... letting me have a minute? I promise. I'll stay out of your space after just..."

Hanzo reached his other hand up to silence him. "I do not mind giving you this, cowboy..." What was he saying? He had to admit, the contact, the kiss, it made him feel really... was content the right word? 

Hanzo let his hand rest against McCree's cheek, curiously running a thumb along the scruffy beard. He had words dancing on his tongue, causing him to bite his lip as he debated releasing them.

"McCree..."

McCree hummed against his hand.

"I...the kiss...."

McCree's head snapped back to look at him, tensing at the words. His expression made Hanzo realize he was terrified, even minutely.

"I had to know...if it was a mistake...an accident."

McCree relaxed a bit. "That's why ya kissed me back."

Hanzo nodded softly. "From your expression, I realize that it was an act of the moment, but...it made me feel..."

McCree was staring at him, he could _feel_ it, even as his head fell. "I do not know enough to tell you what it meant, but...I hope that we can grow from it, Jesse McCree."

Something in him stirred at saying the man's name. It felt so right, and yet so strange. He even seemed confused at his own words, though he didn't regret them.

He turned it over in his head, spinning the thoughts and emotions. He cared for this man. The past couple of months together had been a welcome peace in a tempest of self doubt and anger. He realized in this moment, and in these thoughts, that he wanted to be near McCree as much as he could be.

He barely felt the tears in his eyes as unfamiliar emotions churned in his chest. He would have been more angry at showing such weakness if not for the look of pure elation on McCree's face.

"Darlin, that sounds like a great idea to me." 

McCree's forehead was warm against his and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be overcome by it. He could relax. He could breathe. He felt _safe_. He wasn't mixed between fear of stepping too far into an unknown abyss, and excitement at seeing what lie beyond the horizon.

All Hanzo Shimada could think of, in this moment, was that Jesse McCree meant something dear to him, and he wanted to take a leap of faith into the warm feelings he couldn't quite place.

~~

The next few weeks had tested Hanzo's patience, but his anger and frustration were tempered by McCree's soothing words and mere presence. He got to the point where he could walk on his own, albeit carefully, leaving Ana in a position to deem him in a good place to leave the medbay. 

He found himself unable to resist a small smile of relief as she did a last check and poked at her tablet to set forth his official release from her care. She looked to him a moment. "Keep in mind, while your lungs have regained some strength, you had help for ten months." She tapped the oxygen tank near his bedside with her tablet's pen. "You should keep these handy, and make sure that you sleep with aid." She pointed the pen to the tube on his face. "That is to stay if you plan on doing more than simply sitting. I will monitor you over the next couple of weeks and see how you are improving."

Hanzo huffed, his mood souring at the realization of just how _weak_ his body was right now.

Ana smiled, returning to the words on her screen. "Pout all you like, dear. I have already given Jesse the equipment you'll need with instructions to keep an eye on you."  
Hanzo glared at her. "I do not need to be coddled like a child."

Ana waved a hand dismissively. "I know that. However, you are a stubborn man and there are only two people I know of that can make sure you take care of yourself. I just thought you would prefer McCree over your brother."

Hanzo shuddered at the thought of being placed under Genji's "care". He stood from the chair he'd been resting in, offering a respectful bow to Ana. "Thank you. For everything."  
She smiled, setting the tablet on the table near her. "It was my pleasure, Mr. Shimada. I hope it will be a long while before you need my care again."

He was ready to leave when he turned his attention to the medbay doors. McCree tipped his hat to Ana as he passed her on his way to Hanzo. "I figured you'd want company back to your room."

Hanzo let out a relieved sigh, glad for it as he nodded. "Indeed. Your company will be welcome."

McCree offered an arm to him, smiling wide. Hanzo rolled his eyes, but took it with a smile of his own as McCree used his free hand to pull along the oxygen tank. Lest the wrath of Ana Amari rain on them both.

~~

The walk was slow, filled with a content silence as Hanzo focused on his steps. His thighs still ached at times, but it was an occasional dull throb that he could easily tolerate. He was aware of others in the base watching him, usually with pity or some sort of relief. This left small smiles on faces he couldn't name too well. The one McCree called Lena had offered him a pat on the back and a cheer for being free from the medbay, but he had otherwise been left alone. He was grateful for it.

Once they reached the door to his room, he found himself staring at it with a bit of apprehension. It had been some time since he'd been in this space, and he barely remembered it. He reached forward, tapping a code into the panel that seemed purely from muscle memory. The door obediently slide open.

He was met with warm, stale air. Noting the date, it meant the room had seen nearly a year of disuse. He started when he felt McCree's arm slide free. "I bet this'll be a mite more comfortable than what you're used to." He laughed a bit, setting the tank just inside before he turned to walk away. "I'll be in the lounge if ya need m-"

McCree's eyes fell on the hand grasping his wrist. It was a weak grip, but it stopped him just the same. He looked back up to Hanzo in confusion, though the archer was staring into his own room. If it hadn't been so quiet, he was sure he would've missed Hanzo's voice. "Stay."

McCree turned his body back to face him. "A bit louder, darlin'. Hearin' ain't what it used to be."

Hanzo's grip tightened, and he could feel the muscles trembling. "Please stay. I do not desire to be alone right now." 

There was pain in Hanzo's voice and he found himself pulling the man against him. He knew Hanzo didn't like feeling weak and he could count at least two physical reminders of his state. The thoughts in Hanzo's head must have been wreaking havoc on the man. He knew he'd caught him by surprise by how tense Hanzo was against him. Rather than pull away, he opted to rub small circles on his back. "Of course, Hanzo. I'll stay."

Hanzo relaxed into his grip, hands reaching up to hold onto McCree's arms as if the man would drift away if he wasn't holding onto him. 

They stayed that way for a long moment before Hanzo found himself being slowly brought into his room. He allowed himself to be pulled to the couch, if only because it was McCree doing the pulling. 

He sat slowly, his head falling forward a bit as his thoughts rumbled like thunder in his head. He was so weak and he'd have to accept help to just _function_ on some days. It didn't sit right, and he felt his stomach churn at the thought of it all.

McCree knelt in front of him, placing a hand onto Hanzo's. Hanzo's fingers twitched beneath the touch, but he didn't give in to the urge to pull his hand away. He even found himself leaning into the other hand pushing his loose hair from his face. He nearly scoffed, realizing that it had grown unhindered all this time. 

He reached up, pulling the hand down, keeping it grasped firmly in his own. "This feels like a dream." It wasn't completely untrue. All the feelings, the sensations, the man gave him felt so familiar yet so distant. As if it were all a cruel joke, played by equally cruel fates. He closed his eyes. "If it is, I pray I do not wake up."

McCree laughed softly, gently squeezing both of Hanzo's hands. "I assure you it ain't a dream, darlin'. I'm here and so are you." He squeezed once more, as if to emphasize his words. "You're okay, Hanzo. I'm with you."

Hanzo nodded, leaning forward to rest his head against the cowboy's. "I think I will be while you are with me."  
~~


	7. Strange Familiarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your patience pays off a bit in this chapter. Thanks for putting up with me and sorry for the slow updates.

Hanzo lost track of how long he'd been staring in the mirror. He barely recognized the face that looked back. He was thinner, muscle tone lost from lack of use. He reached up to brush fingers along more pronounced cheek bones. He sighed, closing his eyes as he reached back to pull his hair up. He forgot how fast his hair grew, given how meticulously he kept it trimmed previously. Now he was fidgeting with a length he hadn't experienced since his youth. He would worry about cutting it later. 

He gathered it all, pulling it into a high ponytail. The action felt foreign to his fingers. Despite the time he lay in darkness, he still managed with practiced precision. He gritted his teeth as his fingers trembled. This was not a day he was going to enjoy.

His head turned upon hearing the bathroom door open and he let out a breath he didn't realized he was holding. Burning lungs punished him for the unconscious action, and he coughed softly as he listened to McCree approach. The man was silent, but Hanzo could imagine the look of concern on his face. He closed his eyes as McCree's hands came to his hair. He felt the familiar silk of the ribbon he used being wrapped around the band, allowing himself to relax. McCree's presence, he admitted to himself, helped too.

"Thank you." His voice was soft, though he managed to hold back the shaking.

McCree chuckled low, though his smile remained wide. "Of course."

Hanzo found himself grateful for the lack of words, yet yearned to hear McCree's voice. It allowed him something to focus on, to distract from his troubled thoughts and feelings of weakness.

McCree's hands fell to Hanzo's shoulders as he finished tying, though frowned as the shorter man lowered his head. He squeezed gently, so Hanzo could feel the pressure and find a point to focus on. "Ya ain't weak, Hanzo." 

Hanzo tensed under his grasp, but otherwise didn't move. McCree gently turned him, and was caught by surprise as the man fell against him. He didn't want to move too fast, for fear of scaring off anything lasting, but Hanzo needed someone. He wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back softly. "It's alright, darlin'. I got ya." He bit his lip, realizing he'd fallen into the old pet names he hadn't been able to use for almost a year. He closed his eyes, bracing for a reaction from Hanzo. Instead, Hanzo merely wrapped his arms around him and grasped onto his shirt. McCree's heart was breaking at the sight. Hanzo was trying so hard, and would only allow himself to feel around McCree. It left him looking deflated and shattered.

It was only a few moments, but they were warm and Hanzo felt so safe. He reluctantly pulled away, yet kept his hands against McCree's chest. He could feel the man's heart beating and it grounded him. It reminded Hanzo that he was alive and, apparently, so very cared for.

"We should go. Angela is waiting." Hanzo pulled away, heading towards the door. He felt how McCree tensed up, but was grateful he seemed to be tempering his anger towards her. He knew McCree wanted to toss blame on someone, but his anger was hindering Hanzo's progress at times. A few threats to visit her without him seemed to get McCree on the path to reconciliation.

~~

Hanzo found it strange at first that Angela had requested this session be on the training field, but the purpose was made quickly obvious. He was recovering well enough, but she wanted to assess how well he managed his weapon. He couldn't well blame her. It was a good indicator of progress, but once he arrived, his apprehension reared its ugly head.  
He stared at the bow resting in its stand as if it would gain sentience and turn on him. He only realized he had been like that at all when he felt McCree's hand gently squeeze his shoulder. "Come on, Hanzo. You can do this."

Hanzo nodded, reaching for the weapon. It felt so familiar in his hands, yet so heavy. He flexed his hand around the grip before taking a shuttering breath and pulling on the quiver. 

He looked onto the field, noticing Angela had a basic target simulation in place. Practice bots at varying distance, but they were still. "As you are most likely aware," she instructed, "the closest first, then move to further targets as you feel you can." 

Hanzo nodded, then felt her hand upon on his shoulder. "Know that this is just an assessment. Not a test or a drill. There is no way to fail. You can do this."

He closed his eyes, took in a breath and raised the weapon. He let his body relax, still and focused. It was as natural as breathing as he loosed the arrow. It hit the bot, chest level. He had aimed for the head. He cursed, prepping another arrow. This one hit the shoulder, missing the head again. 

This time, when Hanzo readied his weapon, he was aware of his hands shaking under the strain. He worked to steady them, but his limbs were disobedient. He fought for control, gritting his teeth as he loosed the arrow. He missed the bot completely. He couldn't help the yell of frustration that escaped as he threw the weapon to the ground. It didn't do much, skidding only a few feet away. He lowered his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Too weak to even be properly angry..." 

Angela had reached a hand out, wanting to comfort him, but McCree was already striding forward. He took Hanzo's hand, placing it against his chest. "Hanzo, focus."

Hanzo closed his eyes, his fingers twitching against McCree as they found the rhythm of his heart. His breathing evened and his anger faded. He turned, pulling his hand free from McCree with little effort as he dropped the quiver and headed off the grounds.

McCree cordially tipped his hat to Angela, who watched Hanzo walk away with worry in her eyes before she began tapping at her tablet to mark the assessment.

McCree quickly followed behind Hanzo, though once he fell in stride, it wasn't quick at all.

Hanzo was still careful on his feet. McCree hadn't even known, when they first met, that Hanzo had prosthetics. His stride had been steady, careful, and precise. Now, Hanzo walked as if his legs were already failing him, as if one wrong step would leave him without them forever. 

He shifted to walk beside the archer, offering his arm in silence. Hanzo took it, and his touch was warm and electrifying. He bit his lip at the feeling of Hanzo's weight pressing against his side. Reluctantly, he dared to risk a glance. Hanzo's head was on his shoulder, his eyes closed as he seemed to let McCree hold the pace. 

He shifted his gaze back forward. Partly because he didn't want to bump into anything, but mostly because he knew the longer he watched Hanzo, the harder it would be to look away. Hanzo had nearly left him twice now, and he felt his chest tighten at the thought of how fragile the man seemed because of it. He wasn't quite clear yet, and McCree swallowed as his thoughts circled the thought of actually losing Hanzo this time. 

_If he leaves me behind,_ he found himself locked on the words in his mind. _I'll just have to follow him_. He closed his eyes, knowing, deep in his very being, that it wasn't a casual assertion. If Hanzo Shimada, this beautiful, stubborn, wonderful man, died before him, he would almost definitely find a way to follow.

~~

They reached his room sooner than he would ever admit to wanting. Hanzo stood, glaring at the door as if it offended him by simply existing. He reached over, purely by instinct, punching in the code to open it.

He walked, barely lifting his feet as he entered. His legs felt heavy and he found himself practically stumbling into the room. McCree was holding him steady, but Hanzo was resisting the urge to push him away.

He instead allowed himself to be shifted to the sofa. He managed to hold onto some graceful dignity as he sat, but he looked down, staring at his feet. Glaring.  
McCree silently kneeled in front of him, placing his hands on Hanzo's knees. Hanzo shifted to look at him as he spoke. "You want some relief, sweetheart?" His fingers tapped the metal beneath his hands. Hanzo's only response was to simply nod. 

McCree was gentle as he removed the prosthetics and set them aside. His hands shifted back to the scarred flesh, causing Hanzo to recoil in trained reaction. McCree simply waited until he relaxed once more before he began to lightly massage the limbs. Hanzo grimaced, but made no effort to move. He admitted it felt... nice.

Hanzo felt the urge to busy his hands. He quietly reached out, carefully pulling McCree's hat off and set it aside. He felt the man's hands pause, McCree eyeing him with confusion before Hanzo ran a hand tentatively through his hair. He seemed to be meticulously adjusting bits and strands, leaving McCree to laugh softly. "Don't like idle hands, hm?"  
Hanzo leaned forward, pressing his forehead to McCree's. The contact alone was relaxing. Familiar. "We... I mean, before I was..."

McCree's hands stopped, closing his eyes. "...mm?"

Hanzo slid his hands down to cup McCree's face. "Were we...?" His thumbs ran idly along McCree's beard. The touch felt so warm and he furrowed his brow. Why did McCree feel so right?

McCree grasped his hands, gently squeezing them. "Yeah, darlin'. We were."

Hanzo felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "How could I forget....?" He pulled his head back to look at McCree. At _Jesse_. "How could I forget I loved you?"

McCree's smile was pained, though it was genuine all the same. "Same reason you forgot Lena and Hana and the others. The mind is a fickle thing and maybe...it needed to do something to protect itself."

Hanzo shook his head, pulling his hands free from McCree's grip as he leaned back. "I cannot remember your face in my memories. I can figure out it is you by certain cues, but everything, all my memories of... of this place... are blurred images at best. There's always someone at my side, making me feel...warm and _safe_. How could something so strong be forgotten?" He covered his face with his hands. "I forgot you, Jesse. I even forgot your _name_. Why do you still want me?"

McCree wasted no time sitting next to him, pulling him close. He held on tight, almost desperately. "Hush, sweetheart. It ain't your fault. I'm not going anywhere."

~~

The next few days, McCree noticed Hanzo moving more like a shadow than a person. He was withdrawing and it didn't sit well with him. Hanzo was taking well enough care of himself, eating and showering, but beyond that he was usually quiet. Hanzo said nothing to anyone but McCree and Genji. 

Even now, as McCree sat on Hanzo's sofa, he knew the man was just barely asleep. A paper thin state that any sound would shatter. Hanzo seemed used to the sound of flowing oxygen by now, but McCree knew that the sound simply exacerbated his feelings of weakness. 

He let out a quiet sigh as he sat in the silence. His leg twitched slightly as he waited for the man to stir. McCree turned his head, looking at the very still form on the bed. He knew that serene expression belied the storm of turmoil Hanzo wrought upon himself. He let a soft smile take residence his face as he rose, padding to the bedside. 

It was near dinner and he knew Hanzo had to be hungry by now. He sat on the edge of the bed, carefully. Hanzo's brow shifted and his head turned as he woke. McCree reached over to brush loose hair from Hanzo's face, letting his hand rest on his cheek. "Hanzo...it's been a few hours, darlin. People will worry if you don't eat."

Hanzo grimaced but leaned into McCree's hand. McCree adjusted to lay next to him, stroking his cheek as he waited for Hanzo to fully awaken. He tried once to wake Hanzo quickly, which resulted in the archer spinning into a panic that left McCree guilty and reeling. Hanzo still had moments where he seemed no longer lucid. Angela warned that because he had been out so long, his mind might still be trying to find its own way to cope with actually being conscious. 

Sometimes Hanzo would speak, low, barely audible words in those moments. McCree knew the man was caught in an old memory, speaking words that had long been said.  
McCree sighed, starting to pull his hand away but found it caught in a loose grip. In Hanzo's sleep addled daze, he'd latched onto McCree's hand. "Jesse," he grumbled, "just a minute longer..."

He knew this tone, this memory. The first time they'd slept together. Not in the intimate sense, but more so literally just sharing a bed and enjoying each other's touch for a night. Hanzo had taken a bit to rouse that morning, too.

He found himself repeating words he hadn't realized he remembered. "If we take too long, sweetheart, people'll think something's going on."

"But there is... is there not?"

McCree let out a sad laugh. "That's up to you, darlin'. Is there?"

Hanzo shifted, rising up on his arms to hover over McCree, though when he looked into those eyes, they seemed so far lost. "I believe... I love you, Jesse McCree."

McCree's heart wrenched. He was reliving the first time Hanzo uttered those words. He said them again, but it was just in memory. Unable to help himself, he reached up, pulling Hanzo to him, stroking his long, soft hair. "Hanzo, wake up and say that."

Hanzo tensed against him, emitting small sounds of confusion. He squirmed a bit, but only for a moment before relenting to the embrace. Hanzo pressed his face into McCree's neck. He shuddered slightly as breath tickled his skin. Hanzo curled his hands against McCree's chest, comfort taken in the warmth. "Jesse. I remembered something."

His voice was barely a whisper, still filled with the last dredges of sleep. McCree continued to run fingers through Hanzo's hair, responding with an equally quiet "Did you?"

He felt Hanzo nod against him. "A confession... to you." There were tears. He felt the wetness against his neck. "I... remembered you." He sounded so relieved, so very _hopeful_ that McCree couldn't help but smile. It was such a beautiful tone.

"That's good, sweetheart..." 

Hanzo was silent for a moment, leaving McCree feeling like he had fallen back asleep. McCree closed his eyes, choosing to lay here like this for as long as Hanzo needed. Then he heard the words. "Is that what this is?"

McCree's brow scrunched in confusion. "What?"

Hanzo seemed to pause. He always did want to find the right words for situations he had trouble figuring out, especially emotional ones. "This...warm feeling. I cannot put it all in words, but...how you calm me. How you always make me feel, on some level, happy. How you make me feel..." He paused, rolling the word on his tongue before it came out in a shaking breath. " _safe_." He shifted slightly. "Is this...love?"

McCree took his turn to be silent, mostly due to Hanzo being so open right now. "Yeah, darlin. I think it is."

~~

McCree was elated with Hanzo seeming to remember things better, but it still felt like such a long road ahead. Hanzo was still awkward and unsure. He had forgotten what the emotions felt like and it left him confused with the surge of feelings he had to grow reaccustomed to.

McCree had left for a moment to get food for the both of them. Upon his return, he was greeted with the archer staring at his hands again, eyes lost. McCree would be lying if he said he wasn't used to the moments, but it still tugged at his chest to see Hanzo lost so deep in his memories. 

He sighed, setting the food on the coffee table before quietly approaching to sit on the edge of the bed. He was indeed used to these moments, but that familiarity gave him keen knowledge on how to bring Hanzo back. He took one of Hanzo's hands gently, pulling it to press against his chest as his other hand brushed hair behind Hanzo's ear. It was so long now. After a comment that McCree had liked the length for the time being, Hanzo seemed content to shrug off hints from others that he should cut it.

McCree gently kissed Hanzo's forehead. "I'm right here, darlin'. Come on back." Hanzo's fingers twitched against his chest, accompanied by a soft breath of surprise.  
"Jesse?" Hanzo's voice was low as he roused back to a state of awareness. 

McCree smiled. "Yeah, sweetheart. There you are."

Hanzo frowned, not that McCree could see, but it was evident in his voice. "It... happened again."

McCree nodded, a soft sigh breaking loose. "Yeah. It's okay, though. Ana said it would take a bit."

Hanzo pulled his hand away, lowering it back to his lap as he leaned back against propped pillows. "I do not like it." His eyes had shifted to stare out the window. 

McCree stood, walking towards the table as he spoke. "I know, but... Hey, I brought food!" He smiled, offering a plate as he sat back down onto the bed. Hanzo promptly ignored it.

"Darlin'. You gotta eat."

McCree swallowed as he waited. He was sure Hanzo was ignoring him again, so he started to pull the plate away. Hanzo sighed, turning back to look at McCree as he accepted the withdrawing dish. "Thank you, Jesse... I apologize for being so harsh."

McCree smiled, waving a hand. "Appreciate it, Hanzo, but you don't have to apologize for bein' frustrated. I get it, in a way, I suppose." Hanzo ate slowly, his eyes having fallen to look at the food rather than McCree. "It's just you and me, right? Don't have to worry about judging eyes and prying questions."

Hanzo laughed a bit as McCree stuttered, remembering the cowboy's story about Genji asking him several intimate and intruding questions.  
McCree's smile grew. "I like hearin' you laugh, Hanzo."

Hanzo flushed, pausing a moment at his comment before continuing. "I will try my best to do it more often." McCree could hear the affection buried in his tone.

McCree set his cleaned plate to the side after a moment of silence, laying back on the bed. He stretched, closing his eyes. He heard Hanzo shifting his dishes before he felt the other's hand against his apparently bared stomach. He shuddered against the touch, feeling the bed shift and strain under the movements Hanzo made. He felt the warmth before a weight added to his chest. Cracking an eye to look, he noticed Hanzo shifted to lay against his chest.

Hanzo had fallen still, his breathing was even and relaxed. McCree ran his hand through Hanzo's hair, smiling a bit as he made a pleased hum at the touch. He knew Hanzo took comfort in the calm silence, not that he was going to complain about this moment.

McCree had only counted ten minutes before Hanzo was fast asleep against him. He sighed in contentment as he closed his own eyes again. He would allow Hanzo whatever he needed -- within reason -- if it meant the man could relax. 

"Love ya, Hanzo. Always."


	8. Tumultuous Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. I'm hoping to get a faster updates so you guys don't have to wait so long anymore.

Hanzo's hands had grown stronger as he pushed himself to practice firing his bow. Angela wanted him to continue with the generic ones provided for lessons, but he stubbornly protested. He preferred Storm Bow. It wasn't a protest purely for the sake of it. He merely clung to anything that seemed familiar in some way.

His memories rushed to him unexpectedly, blurring the lines of his reality. He would get lost in them, forgetting it was remnant of the past rather than happening in the present. The only reason he became aware of the true reality once more was a steady, familiar heartbeat against his palm.

McCree would use the method to pull Hanzo back from longer spells. Even now, he felt the pull against his mind as he tried to focus on the target in front of him. He had come alone to the training field this time. Doctor Ziegler meant well, but she would make comments on his physical health that grated on an already abused nerve.  
He shook the thoughts away, focusing again on the target. His arrow flew. He heard it hit, and watched the body fall. 

Body? It was a training bot...wasn't it? He was sure of it. He stared at the downed target. He could have sworn there was blood. No, that wasn't right. He shook his head vigorously. He looked back just in time to see the crumpled heap of a bot before Athena cleared it and set up another.

Hanzo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before focusing again on his new target. He was low, hidden in shadow. He used practiced movements and quiet steps. He felt a smile tug on his lips as he watched the arrow hit its mark.

He glanced to the sky as he lowered his bow, taking in the air. Despite it all, Hanamura always seemed so peaceful at night.

~~

McCree wasn't sure how long ago Hanzo had disappeared somewhere, but he could be sure it could be calculated in hours. He wouldn't be so concerned had Hanzo been completely well. His current state left McCree worried, though he learned to hide it well. The sounds of his spurs were the only thing breaking the deafening silence of the halls as he spoke into the air. 

"Athena, do you know where Hanzo is?"

"Agent Hanzo Shimada is in the training area. Shall I tell him you are looking for him?"

"Nah. Thank you."

"Very well, Agent McCree."

McCree squeezed the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh. He knew Hanzo was worried about not being able to use his weapon, but he was pushing himself too hard lately. At this rate, he was at risk for a setback.

He rounded the corner, entering the training hall with a bit of frustration in his tone. "Hanzo, you really sh--" He stopped abruptly at the sight of Hanzo. The man was staring toward the roof, the grip on his bow limp at best. There was a serene look on his face. McCree would have been content with staring had it not been for the passive, distant look in Hanzo's eyes. Though his body was present, Hanzo was not.

It was only a few seconds, the archer seemed to hear him approach. The grip on his bow tightened and he turned to McCree, an arrow nocked and aimed at his head.  
He knew Hanzo was making demands of him, due to the tone, but the man was speaking Japanese. He had no idea what to do. He threw his hands up in surrender, though it didn't seem to do much.

_Fuck._

"Hanzo...you have to come back. It's Jesse. You _know_ me."

Hanzo glared, pulling the bowstring back tight. 

McCree couldn't chance dying here. While he wasn't afraid of dying, he knew Hanzo would not take it well. The subject of Genji still rubbed on an old wound that would most likely never heal. McCree would just make a fresh one that might have just been dug deeper.

"Hanzo..." 

Hanzo faltered, his eyes flashing briefly. McCree's voice seemed to be pulling him back. McCree didn't waste the moment, rolling low and moving behind Hanzo. He knew the archer had a vice grip on his weapon, so he opted instead to incapacitate him. Hanzo was confused, leaving McCree open to swing his leg to pull Hanzo off balance. It was rough, but Hanzo fell, his bow clattering to the ground and sliding a few feet away. 

Hanzo was kicking, yelling in Japanese and reaching for his weapon. McCree's grip only grew stronger as he wrapped his arms around the man. He grabbed the hand reaching for the bow, pulling it to his chest with a very hard struggle.

"Hanzo, focus. It's Jesse."

Hanzo's struggling lessened, until finally he stilled. His eyes remained distant, but McCree was grateful that at least the fighting had ceased. He knew tears were falling, tears full of worry and sadness for Hanzo's suffering. He wished he could pull it onto himself. He had to watch Hanzo struggle with an enemy he couldn't run from, and McCree was helpless to do anything about it.

Hanzo's hand twitched beneath McCree's as his body shifted. McCree felt a hand on his cheek, wiping away the wetness. "I... left again..." It wasn't a question, and McCree nearly winced at how sad Hanzo sounded. 

McCree nodded, leaning into Hanzo's touch. "I came to make sure you were okay. I wasn't expectin..." He stopped, taking in a breath. "I'm glad you're okay."

Hanzo's brow furrowed. He pushed McCree away, sitting up as he gave him an incredulous look. "You were not expecting...what?"

McCree swallowed, sitting back on his heels as he nervously rubbed his arm. "You turned your bow on me."

Hanzo stiffened. McCree reached out, wanting to comfort him, but the man pulled away as if he would be burned by his touch.

"Hanzo...it's okay....it wasn't me you saw."

Hanzo looked to his hands before clenching them tightly. His voice came out low, barely audible, but the surrounding silence let McCree hear. "I could have hurt you...I could have..." Hanzo felt his chest tighten, the room was spinning. He couldn't breathe and he leaned forward.

_I could have killed you._

He tried to cry out, but only a choked gasp came. He was clawing at his chest, willing his lungs to pull in air, his body tense and shaking.

McCree immediately sprang forward, right hand rubbing soft circles on Hanzo's back.

Hanzo wanted to recoil, to pull away and hide, but he didn't have the strength. He couldn't think and his chest _hurt_. He reached out, grasping McCree's shirt tight, looking to him with panic in his eyes.

He saw McCree shout toward the sky, but he couldn't hear it. There was white noise in his ears, loud and hissing. His vision was faltering, but he could make out how desperately McCree was calling to him. He knew it was his name. His free hand reached up, trying desperately to grab what he could of McCree. He was familiar, warm, _safe_. His eyes met McCree's and he was so desperate to stay on this plane. He wished the darkness dancing at the edges of his vision would fade away, but it only drew closer. He felt the tears falling in his desperation and he didn't care. 

"Je..sse..." He breathed. It was labored, between gasps and tight muscles. He fell against McCree, his body no longer wanting to support him. He felt the man's arms wrap loosely around him. He knew McCree wanted to make sure he could breathe, but he seemed to know Hanzo also wanted comfort.

His hearing focused roughly on a familiar clicking sound of heels on a hard floor. It was quick. Angela was coming. Everything was blurred, but he was still aware, desperately clinging to consciousness. Yellow and white came into his vision. He felt hands touching him, cold and precise. He jerked away instinctively. A few moments passed and his eyelids fluttered, then something pressed to his face, air rushing into his lungs almost unwillingly.

He gasped against the mask, breathing hard and deep. It was a desperate motion and his limbs tingled as feeling returned to numb, oxygen deprived digits. His body fell completely limp, energy spent in panic. His head rested against McCree's shoulder.

There were words coming from Angela's direction but he wasn't focused. Then Jesse spoke, and he found himself homing in on that voice that calmed him. 

"Angie, I won't let him back there. The medbay just ain't good for him right now. He can stay with me."

Hanzo was curious now, though he couldn't move at all to show it.

Angela sighed, nodding. "Alright. As long as someone can be with him at all times, I see no real issue."

Hanzo closed his eyes. He was okay with this, as long as it was McCree. 

He made a small noise -- though he would never admit it was a whimper -- as he felt himself lifted. McCree was strong, making the effort seem as though Hanzo were simply made of paper.

"Thank you, Angie..." She nodded, and they were walking. 

"But," McCree turned his head to look at Angela, who was pointing a finger at him. "He is still in recovery. Oxygen at all times, no excuses. I see him without, he goes back to medbay."

McCree nodded, turning to walk away. "Fine."

~~

McCree cursed silently at the realization they would have to pass through the common room to get to his own room. It was still early, and he knew _someone_ would be there. Hanzo most likely wouldn't appreciate being carried bridal style in front of gawking eyes.

He sighed and quickened his pace. It was careful, but brisk. He nearly let out a sigh of relief, almost passing through without incident, before a voice spoke up.

"Hey, cowboy."

McCree sighed, though he didn't stop walking. "Hey Hana..."

Hana caught up to him, though seeing Hanzo nearly halted her. "Whoa. He okay?"

McCree nodded, offering her a smile. "He's fine. Just pushed himself a bit hard."

She gave a knowing sigh. "He seems to have a habit of that..."

McCree laughed, but his smile faded as he looked to her. "Can you not let Genji know about this? I don't think his worry will do much good here."

Hana gave a quick salute in affirmation before turning back to the common room. "You got it, partner..."

As he continued on his way, McCree felt a hand on his arm. He turned to follow it, finding Hana with worry on her face. "He'll be okay, right? He's been...gone awhile."

McCree offered her a soft smile, but it didn't seem to comfort her much. "He'll be fine. Just needs a bit longer to recover."

Her grip tightened. "He didn't remember me...when I visited. Any of us, really."

McCree nearly winced, his eyes darkening as his smile faded. "Yeah. I know full well what he forgot." His words held more bite than he intended, but it was hard to face he'd seemed so easily forgotten. He held no true blame, but it made it worse given he had no outlet for these feelings. He swallowed them down, relaxing his shoulders as Hana gave his arm a squeeze of attempted comfort.

She smiled, letting go as she waved. "Well, when he's better, tell him he still owes me a game. He promised to be my player two. He may have forgotten, but I'll remember for him." She laughed a bit, though it never truly reached her eyes, and headed back into the room.

He let out a relieved sigh, glad it was only one person who had noticed him and grateful it was _Hana_. He hoped Hanzo would remember enough of her to continue their familial relationship. It was endearing when Hana referred to him as her stern uncle. Hanzo filled the role well.

He walked up to his door, his eyes slowly falling to the keypad near it. "Athena, could you do me a favor?"

His door slid open before he could finish his request. "Of course, Agent McCree."

He smiled nodding to the ceiling. "Thank you, kindly."

The door closed tight behind him, lights flickering on automatically. Athena was a great help when need be. He carefully lay Hanzo on his bed, making sure he was comfortable before sitting on the edge and unlatching the archer's prosthetics.

"Thank you....."

McCree flushed, blinking at Hanzo's words. Hanzo's voice was soft, muffled behind the mask. It was so...very unlike Hanzo, he had to take a minute to consider if it was the archer who spoke. He smiled, returning to his task of detaching limbs. "Of course, darlin'. Always."

~~

Hanzo woke to sore muscles and an aching head. He tried to blink away the darkness before realizing it was merely the room. He groaned slightly against the mask on his face, resisting the urge to remove it. It didn't stop him from turning his nose up at needing it, however. 

He turned his head with tremendous effort, cursing inwardly at the lack of energy. He could see light edging in from beneath the door. It let him know it was still early enough in the evening that the main lights were still on. It only held his attention for a moment, his gaze shifting to the darkened shadow of scruffy hair peeking up over the back of the couch. 

"Jesse...?"

It was faint, but the head snapped up all the same, turning to look at him. "Hey, sweetheart. Feel any better?"

Hanzo huffed, shifting his head back to face the dark ceiling . 

"I'll take that as a no."

Hanzo closed his eyes, trying to push the throbbing in his head away. He heard bare feet on a hard floor approach. The bed sank where the cowboy sat, a hand reaching up to brush loose hair from Hanzo's face.

Hanzo leaned lightly into the touch and McCree could physically feel the man relax beneath his hand, just a bit.

Hanzo opened his eyes, trying hard to see McCree's face. He could only see the outline, the light leaving the appearance of an angelic aura. Hanzo closed his eyes again to laugh slightly.

McCree seemed confused, if his tone was anything to go by. "What?"

Hanzo shook his head slightly. "The light. It illuminates you like a deity. It was an amusing notion."

McCree snorted, but was laughing softly. "I'm anything but saintly."

Hanzo's face grew serious, his eyes searching for McCree's once more. "Jesse?"

"Yeah?" McCree quirked an eyebrow, but his faint smile and soft tone remained.

"Will you sleep with me?"

McCree was speechless, sputtering against words, his muscles tensing. Hanzo worried that he said something wrong. 

"Ah...Hanzo...a little forward in your condition..."

Hanzo flushed, his breath hitching as he corrected himself. "I mean....literally. Stay in the bed. I..." His face twisted, unsure of his own thoughts. He had begun to question what was reality and what was fabricated truths from an addled mind. "You make me feel calm...and safe. I would like you near me." He reached out, weakly grasping McCree's face. "Please."

Hanzo wasn't quite sure why he felt so compelled to be so open with the man. His gut instinct told him to bottle up everything and keep it inside. No emotion, no pain. McCree, however, seemed to affect him strangely. He felt so raw and wanted to do nothing but keep him close, feel his touch. He wanted to feel _him_.

He closed his eyes and his hand fell. He felt so drained. The bed shifted more and he felt McCree's warmth against his side. An arm slid gently under his head as McCree adjusted their positions for comfort. Hanzo rolled onto his side to curl against the warmth that calmed him, his head shifting to rest on McCree's chest. He could hear his heart beating and it made him smile. His hand slid up to feel it, idly tapping fingers to the rhythm. 

McCree reached up, lacing fingers gently with his, both resting there. Hanzo hummed in a contented tone, leaving McCree to smile at how very endearing it was to hear him be even a little happy.

McCree listened as Hanzo's breathing steadied and the hand underneath his relaxed. Hanzo was asleep and calm. It was a small blessing. He turned his head, lips gently pressing against Hanzo's hair. His other hand gently ran along the archer's back, a rhythmic, calming motion that Hanzo did not seem to mind.

"I love you, Hanzo. Don't forget that."


	9. Lucid Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments. I'm sorry I'm not faster in my updates, but I hope you enjoy this all the same.

Hanzo wasn't sure when he had awoken, but light was bleeding through shuttered windows. He realized the mask was gone, grateful for at least a moment. That moment shattered as he realized it had simply been replaced. The awful intrusion was back in his nose and all he could smell was sterile plastic. He groaned softly and shivered. 

Something wasn't right. His hand twitched against the bed. He realized he was alone in it. He raised himself on his arms, looking frantically around the room. "...Jesse?"

A small voice, feminine in tone, answered him. "Calm down, big guy. He's just gone to get you some breakfast."

Hana. He remembered the name from passing conversation with Jesse. "I do not need a babysitter." He tried his best to sound firm, but a lack of energy just making it sound like more of a huff, with no real bite behind it. He lowered himself back to the pillows, closing his eyes against the intrusive light.

Hanzo could hear the eyeroll in her tone. "I never said you did. Just figured you didn't want to be alone." He could hear a chair being shifted. He cracked an eye open as he watched her pull it near the bed and sit. She hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. "To be honest, Cowboy's been worried too much to eat, so I pestered him to get food. Had to promise to stay here with you, though." She raised a finger, mimicking Angela's voice. "Doctors orders. No exceptions."

Hanzo huffed a laugh in reply, opening both eyes a bit to look at her. "You imitate her well, Hana."

She gasped, a hand over her mouth, but it was for the sake of exaggeration. "You _do_ remember my name."

Hanzo frowned and she waved her hands. "Sorry, sorry. Poor taste." She moved her hands around her knees. "You know...Angie said we're supposed to let you go at your own pace...but.." She rolled the words around, debating if she should continue. Hanzo noticed her eyes were looking off. She seemed sad. "I kinda miss playing games with you. And just hanging out. Closest thing to family I have here and... I hope we can have that again."

Hanzo felt his chest clench at her tone. She seemed lost and he was reminded of how much he'd forgotten. He looked fully to her, reaching his hand out. She caught on to the gesture, reaching her hand out to take his. "I know I should remember you, but everything is so distant to me. I hope you can forgive that, but do not mourn for something not lost. We just need time."

He wasn't sure where the words were coming from, but something about her stirred emotions he'd long thought forgotten and abandoned. The same emotions of a familial bond he'd once shared with Genji and had tried so desperately to find again. How close had they been before all this? She seemed sincerely saddened by the loss of their connection.  
She smiled through unfallen tears, but it was warm and welcome. "You still owe me a rematch. I'm remembering that for the both of us."

Hanzo laughed at her words, though found the action becoming painful. The unused muscles strained and tightened, leaving Hana worried as his laughter turned to coughing.   
She squeezed his hand. "Are you okay, Hanzo?" It was clear she was only asking out of a loss of what to do.

When the coughing shifted to wheezing, Hanzo's hand pulled from hers, moving to grasp at his chest. She was immediately at the door, waving her arm. "YOU'RE RUNNING LATE. HURRY. SOMETHING'S WRONG."

Hanzo could tell McCree was running. He'd clenched his eyes against the pain, but he heard the man enter. Something was set on a table and then McCree approached. Rushed, but calm movements sounded in his pace. Suddenly, there was a mask against his face and a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. McCree was leaning so close, he could feel the breath on his ear. "It's okay, I'm right here now, sweetheart. Deep breaths."

Hanzo's breathing eased, and he found himself relaxing against the bed as the pain ebbed. His eyes opened slightly. He could see Hana's concern in her expression, though her movements were a trained calm. She bit her lip slightly with worry and he wanted nothing more than to assure her he was okay. That this was, sadly, something that just happened. But he was limp and helpless, energy spent and words falling silent on his tongue. He looked to McCree, not keen on the fact that he was once again responsible for that concern etched into the man's features.

McCree looked over, seeming to catch onto Hanzo's thoughts. "Please sit down, Hana. You'll worry Hanzo."

Hana nodded, her eyes locked onto Hanzo as she sat back into the chair. "He's okay, right?"

McCree laughed softly. "Of course. This is just something that can happen for the time bein'. Lung injury and whatnot."

Hana let out a breath, relaxing a bit against her seat. "I didn't know what to do. I couldn't help him."

"You know now." Hanzo's voice was rough and languid. He nearly scowled at the tone, but couldn't manage much of one in his current state. "I am sure Jesse would appreciate someone else knowing."

She nodded, but offered a quizzical look. "Genji doesn't know?"

Hanzo closed his eyes, sharing a groan with McCree. McCree took the initiative to answer for him, allowing Hanzo to recover further from this episode. "Not havin' a sibling is a blessing, Hana. If Genji were to help, he'd take every opportunity to milk a reaction. Undue stress on Hanzo is not a thought I welcome."

Hana laughed. "A bit much, I take it." She sat tall, puffing her chest out. "No worries." She patted her chest. "Hana Song is here to help with dignity and grace." 

She and McCree both shared a laugh, leaving Hanzo with a smile in place of the action himself. McCree pulled the mask away, tucking it away beside the bed as he explained to Hana where it was and what to do. Hanzo closed his eyes, his hand seeking McCree's before the man caught on and laced their fingers together.

Hanzo dropped focus on the conversation, content to lean on McCree and listen to the calming heartbeat that kept him grounded. Despite having slept half the day away, he found himself losing the fight against returning to quiet slumber. Hyperventilation had a habit of taking whatever energy he had away.

McCree looked down, using his free hand to stroke through Hanzo's hair. "Well, that figures. I bring the man food and all he wants to do is use me for a pillow." He laughed softly.  
Hana smiled for a moment before giving McCree a pitying look. "He doesn't remember, does he? About your relationship? _Any_ of it?"

McCree's expression saddened, his smile fading as his thumb idly ran circles on Hanzo's hand. "We have to give him time, Hana. He's remembering more and more, but we can't force it," He paused, a defeated sigh pushing from his lungs, "no matter how much it hurts."

Hana sighed. There was a while of silence before she spoke. "Well, it still sucks."

McCree snorted a laugh, purely on tone alone. "Yes, it sucks indeed."

~~

Over the next week, Hanzo hadn't exactly become a social butterfly, but he made his best effort to make appearances. He didn't hate it, but he still found himself tiring frequently and having to excuse himself to rest. McCree was almost always in tow, though Hana and Genji helped when they could.

He managed to keep his promise to play games with Hana, slowly regaining his muscle memory for the games she offered up. There were movie nights where everyone seemed elated to have his presence, citing it being too long. He felt nervous, faces distantly familiar but he still jumbled names or would have McCree whisper them in his ear when he caught Hanzo's nose scrunching ever slightly at struggling to find it in the chaos that was his mind. 

Ana and Angela both helped him through physical therapy and retraining his breathing so his lungs would strengthen. He was able to get around some now without being constantly tethered to an air supply, but had acquiesced to both medics persistence that he sleep with it on. He found himself victim to a constant flood of nightmares that beleaguered his sleep, leaving him panicked and breathless most nights.

He had continued to train with his bow, but much less fervently than before. The training found him lost to his memories more times than he could count. He would always have McCree around for this reason, afraid of turning his bow on a colleague and not having the awareness to realize who he was aiming at before it was too late.

Today, however, he found himself pacing in the room he now shared with McCree. He took every opportunity to calm himself. He was aware this day would come, and was struck with how terrified he was of it. Hanzo had been cleared to be more independent, leaving no medical reason for McCree to be plastered to his side. This left McCree on the available roster for missions again. Though they were light duty ones, which was probably Ana's influence. 

McCree had protested, showing just as much bite and anger as he had shown to Angela a few months prior. Jack and Winston let him deflate before explaining the need for all capable hands being sent out. McCree only relaxed when they promised to alternate him and Hana, making sure Hanzo had a non-emergency contact at the ready.

McCree was being sent on a simple bodyguard type mission, but Hanzo already felt panicked at the loss. "Honeybee, it's only a week."

Hanzo's head turned quickly to look at McCree in the doorway. He wore a smile, but his eyes reflected the same worry Hanzo was feeling. Hanzo glared, though it wasn't as stern as he wanted it to be. "That is exactly the point. An entire week."

McCree was already walking toward him as Hanzo crossed his arms. "It'll be fine, Hanzo. Hana will be here."

McCree pulled him into a hug, but Hanzo didn't move, his arms still folded across his chest. "And what if I were to...lose myself while you are away? Am I to remain roaming a past life until you return?" He cursed inwardly as his voice broke, betraying the mask of anger he was using to cover his fear.

McCree's arms tightened at the realization and Hanzo's arms finally wrapped around him, burying his face against the cowboy's neck. "...you better come home safe, Jesse McCree, or I will kill you myself."

McCree laughed, rubbing Hanzo's back softly. "I plan on it, darlin'."

~~

Hanzo would have been content with seclusion for the week, but he found a weak spot in him for Hana's requests, be it games or just watching an old movie she'd been meaning to see. He knew she was trying to take his mind of McCree, and he became grateful for her company.

They carried on for five days in such a way, Hanzo growing both excited and anxious for McCree's return.

Hana was tapping away at a handheld game on the sixth day as she approached Hanzo's room. She didn't bother asking Athena for entry this time around as the door opened for her. She waved her hand toward the ceiling. "Thanks, Athena!"

"Of course." Athena answered pleasantly.

Hana smiled as she reached a point in her game where she could save, shutting it off and shoving it in a pocket as her gaze turned to Hanzo. "Hey, you. Ready for round thr--" Hanzo sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. She followed his gaze and found nothing in particular. 

She moved around, looking to him. His eyes were distant. "Ah, Hanzo. You were doing so well." She squatted in front of him, resting her hands on his knees as she thought. She pulled her hands back when she felt him flinch. She looked up to see eyes fixed on her. His expression twisted in a combination of pain and fear. "Bad memories. Fan- _tastic_."

Hanzo closed his eyes, his mouth forming words that were barely audible. A lot of good hearing him did her, though, considering he was speaking Japanese. 

Hana perked a bit as a thought tickled her brain. "Hey, Athena."

"Yes, Agent Song?"

"Is Genji here?"

"He has recently returned, yes. He is resting. Shall I request his presence for you?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Very well." There was a long pause as Hana watched Hanzo. She made sure he was breathing okay and gently checked where his heart rate stood before Athena's voice chimed in again. "Agent Genji Shimada is on his way."

Hana made a small sound of affirmation as her focus remained on Hanzo. It wasn't very long at all before the door opened for Genji. "Athena said you needed me."  
Hana gestured her head to Hanzo. "He's out again. I can't understand him."

Genji quietly approached, squatting next to Hana as he listened. He let out a sigh. "I know this one." He took a moment, debating, given the gravity of the memory, before offering Hana the basic translation of his words. "He's asking for release from his pain. He's reliving the day the clan punished him running." He offered no more, and the look of shocked realization on Hana's face told him he wouldn't be pressed for more.

Genji reached back to release the mask on his face, pulling it off and setting it aside. He began speaking back to Hanzo, softness and pain in his voice. Hana figured he'd wanted his voice to sound less like it was being pushed through a filter. Hanzo was responding, though seemed afraid and agitated, but Genji had his wrists held firm.   
Hana stood back, allowing them room as she pulled out her phone. 

_Day six update: we were almost home free, cowboy._

She didn't have to wait long for his reply.

_Shit. Is it a bad one?_

She glanced up as Genji's voice picked up a bit in volume, watching him wrestle a bit with a futily struggling Hanzo, though the older Shimada wasn't putting up too much of a fight to begin with.

_Yeah. Day they caught him running, Genji said._

The response was practically instant, as if he has been typing while she was. 

_Fuck this. I'm coming home._

Hana rolled her eyes. She knew McCree was a stubborn man, so telling him it was a bad idea would do nothing to stop him.

_At least get permission first. Tell Commander Grumpa I'll take your place._

There wasn't a reply this time, though she didn't need one. She pocketed her phone, looking back to the brothers.

Hanzo had relaxed, but it seemed only because he fell deeper than he could respond to. He was staring at the wall again and Genji was calling to him. He looked to Hana. "Jesse's coming, isn't he?" It sounded more like a statement than a question. She nodded. She reached for her phone as it alerted her to a message. It wasn't McCree.

_I vouched for him. No need to replace for one day. Tracer's picking him up now. ETA is six hours._

Hana conveyed the message to Genji as she typed in a quick reply.

_Thanks, Mercy._

~~

It was almost six hours to the dot as Athena alerted the duo of McCree's landing. They both had sat themselves on the couch, exhausting every effort to bring Hanzo out. They weren't even phased as they heard spurs jingling at a clear run to the door. Athena took the liberty to open it, leaving McCree to continue his pace to the archer.

McCree didn't acknowledge anyone else, as he reflexively grabbed Hanzo's hand to put to his chest as he sank to the floor in front of him. He stared unblinking at Hanzo, watching his eyes as his hand twitched beneath him. Hanzo's eyes shifted to him and he was shaking as his mumbled Japanese began once more. 

McCree's expression stiffened in frustration. He _had_ to learn it soon if this was going to be an ongoing thing. Genji's voice caused him to whip his head toward the source. "The memories may be in the past, but the pain is present."

McCree glared at him, his voice stern, almost a growl. "Not helping, Genji."

Genji stretched almost casually as he spoke, though his voice held the weight of the words fine. "He's begging for death, Jesse..."

McCree's heart sank and he knew Genji -- in his own way -- was giving him the motivation to bring Hanzo back faster. But this wasn't magic and he couldn't perform miracles. He took Hanzo's free hand, holding it to his face as he began to hum low. It always seemed to help when Hanzo was out for extended periods. 

He stopped, staring at Hanzo as he heard it. In the midst of the string of Japanese, Hanzo said his name. His eyes were still distant, not looking at him. It made McCree stiffen. The tone Hanzo carried told him it wasn't a pleasant thing.

Genji approached, confusion in his tone. "...I don't understand." McCree looked to him. Genji knelt in front of Hanzo, looking deeply into his expression. "He spoke the same words he did so long ago, when he...hm..." He gestured to Hanzo's missing limbs. "I'd assumed that was it. This, what he's speaking now, is... new. Not a memory at all, at least not real."

McCree clenched his eyes shut, contorting his face in frustration. "In English, Genji."

Genji was silent, but figured not telling McCree held more consequences. "He's begging to follow you in death."

McCree felt his heart lodge in his throat, his gaze shifting back to Hanzo. He squeezed the hand against his chest and swallowed as he looked into distant eyes.

"Hanzo, darlin', I'm right here. Come on back. Your mind is playin' with ya."

Hanzo's hand twitched, seeming to finally focus on the heartbeat. "Jesse...?" His voice sounded so defeated. McCree could see Hanzo was doubting his words, his thoughts. He just had to break through.

~~

Hanzo hadn't handled the news well. He sat on the edge of the medbay bed. Angela was holding his hand, though it eased the pain little.

McCree had promised to come home, and he hadn't. Not alive. 

They'd been walking on eggshells when the team arrived home, unsure how to break the news to Hanzo. A simple recon turned into an ambush. He was cutoff. Genji had made it to him too late.

The information raced through his head. He wanted to scream, but he felt numb. Genji broke the news as kindly as he could, but he was angry, frustrated at how everyone else danced around it when Hanzo had asked.

Hanzo knew he was speaking. A string of words he'd not spoken aloud since he'd nearly murdered Genji. A string of Japanese that begged for death, to be released from a pain he had hoped to never feel again.

Genji had spoken to him, trying to console him, but it wasn't enough. He stared at a hand in his. Angela.

His words shifted and fresh tears fell. " _...take me with you, Jesse. You were not supposed to die without me_."

Genji tensed and he began to feel a heartbeat beneath his hand. Warm and familiar. Inviting. No. It couldn't be. McCree was dead.

He looked over, his eyes locking with Angela's pitying expression. She was speaking but he couldn't make out the words. 

He flexed his hand against the familiar heartbeat. A flash of a room, another place. It was dark, but the smell was unmistakably _his_. He was looking into his eyes. His sad, sad eyes. Why was he so sad? "Jesse....?"

The room disappeared as quickly as it came, and he was suddenly aware the hand holding his felt bigger. It wasn't Angela's touch. He took a glance around and it all seemed to fall away. His vision faltered and he shook his head. 

He dared to open his eyes, the dark room coming into focus. He immediately locked on to eyes swimming in fear, on desperation in a voice that seemed muffled and distant as the rest of his mind caught up. He reached a shaking hand to rest against McCree's face. It was real. _He_ was real. He was unable to prevent himself from lurching forward, arms wrapping tightly around McCree as he pressed his face in to take in his scent. "Jesse...you are real..."

McCree was caught by surprise for only a moment before he returned the embrace with just as much fervor. He kissed the top of Hanzo's head for reassurance as he began to rub his back softly. "Of course I'm real, sweetheart."

He nearly panicked as he felt Hanzo shaking in his grip. Hanzo was trying futily to hide soft sobs against his neck. "It seemed so real. It felt real."

McCree's concern grew tenfold. Reliving past memories was one thing easily dealt with, but now Hanzo's mind was fabricating new realities to trap him in.

He glanced over at the other two in the room. Hana seemed calm, but she was trained for war. She was able to create a believeable facade. Genji, however, was showing his concern. He was trained, but Hanzo was deeprooted _family_. It wasn't easy to watch them suffer.

"Hanzo..." Genji noticed Hanzo tense a bit at the pity in his tone, however unintentional it seemed. He rolled the words on his tongue, worried about continuing, but speaking in the present was better than regretting his silence in the future. "Your mind is not coping well. Please...consider talking to Angela."

There was a thickness to the silence that followed, hanging heavy on truthful words and consideration before Hanzo nodded softly against McCree. "I do not want to relive such a thing." His voice was soft, drowned out by his own heavy breathing. 

McCree pushed Hanzo back a bit, taking his face in his hands as he studied him. He was talking softly, reaching for the emergency mask and holding it gently against Hanzo's face. Hanzo was barely paying attention, nodding when asked if he was okay. He was staring, he knew, but he didn't care. Just moments before he was convinced the man was _dead_.

Genji and Hana excused themselves quietly. Really, Genji was urging Hana out, assuring her that Hanzo was okay.

Hanzo took a deep breath, grateful for the flow. He opened his eyes, and...something caught his attention. He pushed McCree's hand holding the mask away, leaning forward as he reached for the glint against McCree's neck.

He felt the man tense, a hand wrapping around his wrist. Hanzo looked to him in both confusion and frustration. "Jesse. You are not a man to wear necklaces to battle. What is that?"

McCree looked pained, and his grip faltered. "It's nothin', honeybee. Just a gift I treasure."

Hanzo's expression turned incredulous. He may be weakened, but he was a trained assassin. He pulled his grip free, reaching quickly to pull the necklace free from its hiding place in McCree's shirt. He heard the man curse above him, but he ignored it.

The chain was simple, but his attention was caught on what it was holding. The band was simple, a blend of gold and a silver material that seemed appropriate for surviving in their line of work. He leaned in, noticing engraved words. _You are the sun to break my night. Forever yours. J.McCree_

He looked to McCree's left hand, seeing a matching band. He pulled it slowly to him as he ran fingers over the metallic digit. "Jesse...."

McCree swallowed as Hanzo's eyes locked onto his. "These are wedding bands." It wasn't a question.

McCree nodded. "Yes."

"Our wedding bands." Also not a question.

McCree closed his eyes. He took off his hat, running fingers through tussled hair. "They are."

Hanzo tensed, placing his hand over the ring against McCree's chest. A wave of panic and sadness coursed through him, tears spilling over in its wake. He was staring at his hand, trying desperately to focus on McCree's heartbeat. "How... could I forget this?"


	10. Justified Retribution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost done! Just one more chapter! Thanks to you all for sticking with me and I hope to have the last of it out soon. Thanks you all for your comments and kudos. It's more than ever expected.

McCree wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the sun had long since set and moonlight crept through the window. Hanzo had taken the news of their marriage well enough, but had taken far too long to stare at the ring McCree had been hiding around his neck. 

_Hanzo shifted, lowering himself into the cowboy's lap as he carefully unlatched the chain. McCree settled against the wall and wrapped his arms around the man. His husband. It felt so foreign, for so short a time, to call him that. It had been close to a year, their anniversary long past. He swallowed hard, still bitter about the memory. Hanzo slipped the ring on and seemed distant once more. He was lost in a memory, though the soft smile the archer wore told him it was, for once, a pleasant one._

_Hanzo came around on his own, but his smile faltered. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. "How could I forget?" One... two... McCree counted thirteen times Hanzo repeated the question. McCree pulled him desperately close, planting small kisses against the archer's hair._

_"It's okay, Han. It ain't your fault."_

_Hanzo fell silent, idly spinning the ring on his finger as he looked at it. McCree nearly drifted asleep when Hanzo's soft tone broke the silence._

_"I remembered it....our wedding."_

_McCree smiled, leaning his head back against the wall. "Is that so?"_

_Hanzo closed his eyes, hands curling between them. "I love you, Jesse. I am sorry I forgot so much."_

_McCree lazily ran a hand along Hanzo's back. "I love you, too, Hanzo. No matter what, I always will." He chuckled, "I can remember for the both of us."_

McCree opened his eyes as the night's memory faded. His serape was around Hanzo, still caked with dust from the mission he'd been abruptly pulled from.

He sighed, looking to the form of his husband pressed against him, head tucked against his chin. He knew staying on the floor wouldn't be a wise idea, so he gently prodded Hanzo. "Hanzo...?" 

Hanzo shifted slightly, but seemed to be in a heavy sleep. McCree smiled and took the opportunity to lift him. His smile fell slightly as he realized just how _light_ the man was, even despite his recovery. He carried him to the bed, making sure he was comfortable before he made an effort to shake out of his own clothing. 

It was dusty and too much to sleep in, obviously, so he opted to switch into a clean shirt and sweats, sliding carefully into bed. Hanzo all but melted against him as McCree pulled him close. He smiled as the moonlight glinted off the ring on Hanzo's finger between them. 

For the first time in damn near a year, he fell into a contented sleep.

~~

McCree awoke with a groan as Athena chimed overhead. He felt Hanzo shift, but was grateful that it didn't wake him. 

"Agent McCree, your presence is requested in the conference room."

McCree waved a hand, furrowing his brow. "This couldn't wait a bit longer?"

"Winston was insistent on meeting sooner, to allow Agent Hanzo rest."

McCree sighed, rolling reluctantly out of bed. He plopped his hat on his head, despite how odd it looked with his casual attire, and slid his feet into a pair of slippers before heading out of the room. He sure hoped there was a damn good reason for pulling him away.

He yawned as he entered the conference room, plopping heavily into a seat before he opted to fully take in his surroundings. He furrowed his brow at the presence from not only Winston, but Angela and Ana as well.

Winston and Ana seemed calm, but Angela was giving him a look of pity. He looked to Winston, confusion obvious in his voice as he rested his arms against the table and leaned forward. "What is this?"

Winston cleared his throat as he adjusted his glasses. "I apologize for waking you, but Agent Amari convinced us that informing you sooner would be better than waiting."

McCree just raised his brow, motioning a hand for them to get on with it. He could already tell he didn't like where this was going.

Winston sighed before taking a somber tone. "To get to the point, due to current circumstances, Agent Hanzo Shimada has been removed from the roster until further notice."

McCree's expression hardened. "Removed as in no longer a member. Isn't that what you mean?"

Winston took a moment before nodding, as if already choosing his next words. He opened his mouth but Angela stood, arms crossed as she straightened. Her tone conveyed years of medical professionalism, despite how much she hated having to say the words she uttered. "I've been marking Hanzo's condition and monitoring how often he enters a fugue state. Suffice to say, he is improving physically. Mentally, however, while he isn't getting any worse, he isn't getting any better either. It is a condition that already hinders his abilities, leaving him very much unable to continue his duties for Overwatch. This was not a decision we made lightly, but we must move forward and discharge him."

The silence fell heavy on the room, and Angela held her breath as she waited for a response. She was slightly startled when he burst out laughing.

It wasn't a sincere laugh, there was something troubling about it. Her fears were confirmed when he abruptly stopped laughing and hit her with a firm glare. There was fire in his eyes, and a rage barely contained beneath the surface. "If that don't beat all. You have two people come back from the fucking dead and because Hanzo doesn't improve in what? Five months? You just write him off! Thanks for the service, but you're just not good enough anymore. Just toss him out."

Angela took a deep breath. "Jesse, it's not that we don---"

His hands slammed on the table, his gaze unwavering even as she started, taking a reflexive step back in fear. "Shove your excuses, Ziegler. Hanzo Shimada came to us when every instinct told him not to. He fought for people that kept him at a distance and even _hated_ him for things he had been _forgiven_ for. But they had simply judged him for based on a story. He worked his ass off to help everyone and you all want to go tell him that he's no good anymore? Someone who still has nightmares that keep him awake at night, memories that make him feel worthless, and you want to go tell him he actually _is_." 

The only one who didn't hold an expression of remorse was Ana, though she made an effort to avert her gaze. He raised up straight. "Why are you coming to _me_ with this?"

Winston sighed. "The spouse is the first line of contact." The statement was matter-of-fact, succinct and to the point.

McCree huffed, turning to leave. "Then you can tell him yourself. I won't let any word that makes him feel worthless leave my mouth."

Despite hearing protests from Angela, he was already out of the room. He was halfway down the hall when he hear her voice call to him. "Jesse!"

He rounded quickly, approaching her with a brisk pace. She stood firm, but his dark expression left fear swirling in her eyes. "You do _not_ get to call me that." He snapped, causing her to reel back ever so slightly. "Agent McCree is the most I want to hear from you when you address me. When any of the three of you address me. I am finding it very hard to call you a friend when at every turn you have hindered him because you couldn't see past what you learned in a textbook." He took a sharp breath through his nose before he leaned back, putting space between them again. The tension between them hung heavy in the air, choking out whatever words Angela hoped to say. It was only broken when a familiar voice called down the hall. 

"Jesse....?" Hanzo sounded barely awake and half-panicked. It was the first morning in a long while the archer had woken alone, so his fear was somewhat well-founded.

Jesse's rage subsided, turning and quickly closing the distance to meet his husband. He placed a hand on Hanzo's shoulder, his right hand cupping his face. "Han, you should be in bed. It's still early."

Hanzo leaned into the touch, his hand reaching up to cover McCree's. "There was an absence of warmth in the bed." His panic subsided immediately at the contact and his words were spoken with an air of reverie. McCree smiled, kissing his forehead softly.

"Let's go back together, then."

He took Hanzo's hand, the two walking back to the room. McCree's rage flashed for only a second as he heard Angela's footsteps fading away behind them.

~~

Ana sat silently, watching as Winston rubbed the bridge of is nose and sighed. She raised a knowing brow. "You're still going through with this aren't you?"

Winston turned to face her. "What choice is left? You've seen his progress."

She leaned forward, crossing her legs as she rested her hands on her knees. "I seem to recall a certain agent being welcomed back after getting shot by a sniper and recorded dead."

Winston waved a hand. "That's different, you're not an active danger-"

She tapped her eye patch, a wry, almost bitter smile on her face. "I'm a sniper with no depth perception."

He snorted. "I suppose you have a point with that one. Still-"

She feigned thoughtfulness. "And there's Jack..."

"There's hardly a point-"

"Jack was legally declared dead. You have a dead man on active duty."

Winston fell silent. Ana took the opportunity to approach. "You look at numbers and facts, and form conclusions that, while well meaning, can be incredibly stupid." She had the expression of a disappointed mother, and it left Winston feeling scolded. "You saw how hesitant Angela was to give you the data. You don't have to completely remove someone to take them off duty. Medical leave. Personal leave. Light duty. There are _options_. If he never recovers? So be it. At least he has the semblance of belonging." She sighed. "Jesse's anger is well founded. I thought if you could see it, it would sway you. It swayed Angela, more than once. I wouldn't want to cross that man." She turned, heading out the door. "After all, I taught the boy."

~~

Hanzo had been called to meet with Winston a mere two days later. McCree was pacing the hall. He didn't want to be too far, fear and rage pooling inside him, boiling hot in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his fists at his side. All he could do was wait.

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. He wanted to be by Hanzo's side, but Winston insisted strongly against it, given his prior reaction. He grit his teeth as the memory flashed in his head before he stamped it down and took a deep breath. He stopped his pacing when the door slid open.

"Hanzo?"

Winston's head popped out of the door, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. "Agent McCree, I... I need your assistance."

McCree gave him an incredulous look, but made no hesitation to follow him in. His heart sank to his stomach as he saw Hanzo sitting too still in the chair. He rounded the table, taking a seat next to him as he took one of Hanzo's hands in his. "Hanzo? Sweetheart, look at me."

There was only a twitch of Hanzo's hand, his eyes were unfocused on the wall ahead. McCree turned his head gently to look at him, but Hanzo's eyes were lost. 

McCree cursed under his breath. It was too soon. Hanzo's mind had been like a puzzle McCree, with the help of Hana and Genji, had been meticulously putting together. He still had pieces to find, but he was getting better. In one moment, it had all come undone. Hanzo didn't need to feel like he was useless, but they had made it so. He could practically see his husband spiraling too deep to reach, leaving him helplessly grasping at all he knew he could do.

He placed Hanzo's hand on his chest. "Hanzo, focus. I'm here, darlin'. Still here."

Hanzo's hand flexed beneath his and McCree was gently brushing hair from the archer's face. He heard Winston clear his throat and he shot a glare in his direction. He had to get them out of there. Hanzo needed a safe space, something familiar. 

McCree stood, leaning over to lift Hanzo in his arms, his head against his chest. Silently, he left the room, heading down the hall. Hanzo was murmuring, barely audible but McCree had caught it in the silence.

"...useless without you..."

_Fuck._

"Nah, honeybee. You've got a lot of skills. They're just too stupid, you know?"

He gently kissed the top of Hanzo's head as they entered their room.

He gently adjusted Hanzo to sit on the couch, wrapping him in a blanket before he sat on the floor in front of him.

He took Hanzo's hand again, placing it against his chest. "Darlin', I don't want you to lose yourself like this. I need you, Hanzo."

Hanzo's eyes focused quickly, his hand softly clenching McCree's shirt as he desperately focused on the heartbeat. His voice was unnervingly steady, almost deadpan. "You are the only one who does." There was no bite behind it, but it sounded almost like there should have been.

McCree was quick in getting on the couch next to him, pulling him in close as he rocked softly. Hanzo felt so limp against him, but his hand was still clinging, seeking the heartbeat to focus. "That's not true, Hanzo, and you know it."

"I find it hard to believe you."

"Well, what about Genji?"

"He does not need me."

"I'm not so sure he would agree with ya, but Hana does."

Hanzo stiffened slightly against him. _Got him_. McCree continued. "I mean, without ya, she's got no player two."

Hanzo laughed softly against him. "She would have to give up gaming for good, I suppose."

McCree feigned shock. "Was that a _joke_?"

Hanzo leaned back, looking at him as he laughed. "I am allowed at least three a year, Jesse." Through the despair McCree could swear he saw an almost playful gleam in his eyes.  
McCree smiled softly, his right hand come to rest on Hanzo's face. His thumb softly ran along the archers cheek and his heart fluttered as Hanzo leaned into it. "You're beautiful, Hanzo. Don't let _anything_ make you feel otherwise."

Hanzo's smile softened, but remained all the same as he looked into McCree's eyes. Almost too quickly, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against McCree's. His free hand reached behind his neck to pull him closer.

McCree was startled for only a second before he reciprocated, his left arm sliding around to press Hanzo closer. Hanzo was desperate, and he was happy to oblige. He needed this, too. He'd been too careful lately, too afraid of triggering too much or facing that Hanzo had forgotten completely, but this moment was theirs.

Hanzo pulled back first, taking sharp breaths for air, but he was smiling so sweetly. McCree melted at the sight, pulling him close. He wanted to feel his warmth, to rub comforting circles on his husband's back as he gently kissed his hair. He needed Hanzo to feel wanted and alive and _safe_.

"I'm always here, Hanzo. No matter where you go, or what you remember, I'm here."

Hanzo hummed softly against him, his arms finally wrapping around him as he buried his face against McCree's chest. "I love you, Jesse McCree."

~~

Hana found herself turning her nose up at the still closed door. Sure, Hanzo and McCree shared quarters for the most part, but Hanzo had shifted his room to a sanctuary of sorts since then. Hana had turned it into a gaming haven for them, at least a corner of it. She turned her attention to the screen that usually flickered with the name of the rooms owner, tapping the now blank display. "It's possible it's broken..." She mumbled to herself.

She looked up, placing her hands on her waist as she cocked her hip to one side. "Hey, Athena. What gives?"

"Please clarify your question, Agent Song."

Hana crossed her arms. "Hanzo's door is busted."

"The room in question is vacant."

"Vacant?"

Hana felt her heart sink at the news. Vacant rooms meant one of three things, discharge, the agent left, or death. She swallowed hard.

"Where is Hanzo Shimada?"

"Former-agent Hanzo Shimada-"

Hana waved her hands at nothing as she interrupted. "Wait wait hold on. _Former_ agent?"

"Correct."

"Why is he a 'former agent'?" She used air quotes, spitting the last two words in a mocking tone that contained notes of her anger.

"That information is classified."

She huffed through her nose before straightening. She knew who to talk to when she got this answer. "Where is Winston?"

"Agent Winston is in the medbay with Agent Ziegler. Shall I send a request for a meeting?"

Hana was already walking down the hall, purpose in her stride. "No, thank you. I'll tell him in person."

~~

The medbay wasn't far, and her pace put her at the doors quickly. She heard heated words, muffled by walls, but it didn't deter her. Winston's voice was present and that was all the confirmation she needed before walking in.

The doors slid open and the voices stopped. Winston's gaze shifted to Hana, her expression calm, but fire in her eyes. She crossed her arms, her back straight as she raised a brow. " _Former_ agent Hanzo Shimada's room is vacant. I request an explanation."

Winston sighed, pushing his glasses back on his face as Angela came into view, sitting in a chair behind him. She looked irritated and tired, shooting a bit of a glare at the back of his head.

"That information's classified."

Angela looked to Hana, huffing in frustration. "Winston believed him unfit to remain active due to his fugue states."  
Winston turned his head sharply, anger flaring his nostrils as he glared at her.

Hana narrowed her eyes. "That's _it_?"

Winston rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Need I remind everyone present that he turned his weapon on Agent McCree and had to be subdued?"

Hana scrunched her nose up. "That was Agent McCree's fault. He entered an in use training facility without alerting the agent inside. This makes the incident circumstantial _at best_ leaving it off the table for reasons of dismissal." 

She seemed calm, but Winston picked up the anger carried on her words. He already had doubts, planted there by one Ana Amari, but now he was beginning to feel remorse stir within him.

"What else, oh wise one?" The last words dripped with venom.

Hana's scathing tone had him looking at her with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"What other reasons?"

Winston cleared his throat. "His medical records indicated physical improvement, but not mental."

"Jack Morrison." Her response was immediate.

"What?"

"Ana Amari." She continued, maintaining an almost challenging eye contact.

"Agent Song, what are you--?"

"Genji Shimada."

Winston huffed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "What are you getting at?"

Hana approached, leaning in close. "They are all legally dead, according to official medical records. They are all. Active. Agents." She pointed a finger at the last two words, emphasizing them with a near growl in her throat. "If you dismissed Hanzo, you have to, in all fairness from your reasoning, dismiss _everyone else_ that fits that description."

Winston scrunched his nose.

Hana continued. "Lena Oxton. Officially missing in a testing mission. Mei-Ling Zhou. Cryostasis malfunction. Ana Amari. Killed by Talon. Jack Morrison. Dead after the incident that shut down Overwatch." As she listed names, she inched closer, her brow furrowing to show the anger she felt. Winston wanted to be angry, but military training could make even the smallest frame powerful. Hana Song was no exception. "Jesse McCree. Outlaw. Literal danger to fellow teammates, if words are all you go by."

She was in his face now, her eyes locked with his. "Dismiss them all or reinstate Hanzo."

He swallowed. "That would leave..."

"Your logic hinders you. You look too far ahead to see the past you have around you. Everyone here has demons and everyone here is probably a danger to each other, if they didn't know each other." She leaned back. "Hanzo has become a respected member, even loved. Keep him out. I can't stop you. I don't have the authority." She shrugged at her words, a wry smirk on her lips. "I do, however, have the ability to inform a certain member that his brother, that he worked incredibly hard to even get to join, has been dismissed because some stupid scientist thought his current, for all intents and purposes, disability is _unsafe_." She pulled out her communicator and began typing.

Winston swallowed, placing a hand over her screen. She looked up to him, a fury laced look that told him to back off. He stepped back and cleared his throat. "Perhaps I was...hasty in my decision. I will take time to....ah....reconsider."

The only response he got was a small, victorious, grin.


	11. Start Anew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! I appreciate everyone sticking with it. It's my first in a long time and I wanted to be super careful with it. I love each and every one of you that went on this journey with me. Even if just one person enjoys this, it's enough to make it worth it. You guys rock and thank you for letting me feel welcome in this community and all your comments.
> 
> I have more in the works and will update far more frequently, if I can help it.
> 
> A special thanks to Craften for being an enabler, Kiro for being a great editor, even when times got tough, and Trimmer for helping me bounce ideas and come up with future projects. I've found my joy in writing thanks to you guys, and thanks for being with me through it all.

The sound of Hana clicking buttons on her handheld rang loud, cutting through the murmurs of the common room. She glared at the screen, barely paying attention to the game, having memorized the very code after the thirty seventh playthrough. 

"You know you'll break that thing if you keep abusin' it like that." McCree had a brow raised, a tired smile on his face as he looked at her. His fingers were idly running through Hanzo's hair as the man slept between them. The book he had been attempting to read was long abandoned in his lap, Hanzo himself leaning easily against McCree's chest.  
Hana grumbled low before clicking a button that likely paused the game and dropped the device into her lap. Her eyes closed and she furrowed her brow as she reached back to tie her hair into a high ponytail, huffing in frustration. "I had a talk with Winston two days ago and he's _still_ dragging his heels. Probably trying to find a way to keep Hanzo off missions while still keeping him on file. I mean, yeah, sure, put him on medical leave. But don't practically tell him 'You're completely useless now. Bye.' I think his logic lobe overloaded. After all, to keep him off the roster, he'd have to basically disband the already small team."

She took a deep breath, training concerned eyes on McCree. She spoke, voice low. "He's been on your heels and looks so unlike himself, I can barely recognize him. And there's _nothing_ I can do." She picked up her gaming device, staring at the screen blankly. "I want my player two back, Jesse. He can't see how much he means to us. I don't like it."

McCree reached over as best he could, managing only to gently tap her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. "It'll be alright, Hana. You know Winston's gotta make sense of things before taking action." He spoke the name with a bit of venom. Hana knew the contempt he harbored. He sighed, returning his hands to their previous machinations. He let his head fall back against the couch as he closed his eyes. "I warned 'em, and they still thought it was okay."

He let his mind wander, picking out memories from the past few days. Hanzo wore his expressions so openly. Hanzo forced smiles for the other, feigning laughter and mirth, but McCree could see the pain. Could see the thoughts of worthlessness all but physically written on his features. It broke McCree's heart, but words and platitudes could only do so much to soften a blow so harsh to someone who's self worth was already stretched so thin.

He had to watch Hanzo make the motions of a routine, though the man refused to do his usual training. He even avoided the physical therapy appointments now. "There is no point if I am already written off, Ms. Amari. I appreciate the concern." His voice had been sad and tired, and it was all McCree could do to not waltz in and start punching anyone and everyone involved. Ana Amari had defended Hanzo at every turn. She even admitted her silence in McCree's meeting was a ploy, that since her words weren't enough, perhaps his anger would have been.

He felt a bit slighted at the fact that it took Hana Song's quiet rage to turn the tides. She was young, but watching her train, and having her by his side in combat, her military training was clear down to her concentration and actions. She put on a good show for her viewers, but there was a reason you didn't fuck with a gamer prodigy turned military genius.

McCree only opened his eyes when he felt Hanzo sit up. He lifted his head to watch him, his voice carrying the same exhaustion he looked like he felt. "I will be fine. You do not have to fight this on my account."

Hana was still staring at her screen, game still paused, and Hanzo's words only made her glare at it harsher. "I don't _have_ to, but I'm _going to_. You deserve better, Hanzo. You're part of all of..." She set her game down, waving her hands to gesture to the base as a whole. "this." She sighed, her expression going to a soft, concerned one as her gaze fell on him. "It wouldn't at all be the same without you and _you know that_."

Hanzo sighed, offering her a soft smile. "I do not plan on leaving, Hana."

She swatted at him, huffing a bit. "You know what I mean."

He started to speak once again, but a voice from overhead stopped him. "Hanzo Shimada, your presence is requested in the conference room."

Hanzo sighed, standing. "I suppose he has finally come to a decision."

McCree shifted to stand. Athena cut in once more. "Alone, Agent McCree."

McCree glared at the ceiling. "How the hell does an A.I. sound so damn condescending?"

Hana laughed a bit, but it was soft, fading quickly as concern once again took her expression. Those concerned eyes followed Hanzo as he began to walk forward.

McCree was quick to lean forward and grab his hand, squeezing it gently. "We'll be right here, sweetheart."

Hanzo didn't turn to look at him, but squeezed his hand in return before stepping away and disappearing around the corner.

McCree felt a strange dread drop into the pit of his stomach. He knew if Hanzo didn't get an appropriate answer, even _he_ might not be enough to pull him back from the blow.

~~

McCree found himself pacing in front of the couch while Hana distracted herself with yet another game on her handheld. It seemed to be working about as well as the last few, which was to say it wasn’t.

She turned her nose up as she came to a part of the game she didn’t seem particularly fond of. "Careful there, cowboy. You're wearing the floor out."

He paused, flashing her a glare. If it fazed her, she showed no signs of it. "It's been _two hours_ , Hana. What the hell kind of answer to all this takes that long?" _None._ He responded to his own question mentally. The only thing that lasted this long was mission briefings.

Had the meeting ended and Hanzo just not returned? His eyes widened as a thought crossed his mind. "Hey, Hana? Call me if Hanzo comes back. I need to check something."

Hana gave him a quick thumbs up without taking her eyes off the handheld. "You got it."

He huffed, walking quickly out of the common room.

He wasn’t entirely sure how, but he knew where Hanzo was. That meant the meeting wasn't a good one.

~~

McCree quietly crossed the way across the grass, extra caution in each step. Hanzo had long before found a spot near the cliff's edge where a lone tree grew and the salty scent of the ocean carried on the breeze. It was a place that no one came to, and allowed Hanzo quiet reflection. They had started sharing the spot some years ago. It held meaning enough to them both, even being the place McCree had eventually proposed.

He stopped, watching the soft wind catch Hanzo's long hair on the breeze. It now flowed to near his waist, though almost always pulled up into a high ponytail or loose bun. McCree wondered when he'd let it down. _If_ he’d let it down.

Hanzo was still, sitting with his legs crossed, hands rested on his knees. He only sat like this when something weighed too heavily on his mind to be released by meditation. He seemed to catch McCree's presence as he spoke softly, unmoving. "Angela was there. Winston agreed to change his decision, only probationary light duty to start. I will get full status returned once Angela gives the medical clearance." McCree smiled, ready to speak, but Hanzo's voice faltered, turning his head slightly. McCree's breath hitched as he saw a tear catch the light of the sun, sliding down an already determined trail. "Angela informed me that... may not be a possibility." His hands clenched. "She said I spent too much time reliant on a machine to do the work for me. My breathing....my lungs....may not recover."

McCree closed the distance quickly, kneeling to pull Hanzo against him. Hanzo was still for a bit before turning, wrapping his arms around him as he cried full into McCree's shoulder. Hanzo didn't need words for McCree to know what he was thinking. He knew his husband's mind was churning out the vitriol of worthlessness and weakness. "You ain't weak, Hanzo,” While comforting warmth radiated from it, his voice was still stern. “And you sure as hell ain't worthless." He hoped he was able to convey the warmth in his tone, wanting to provide comfort where he could. He rubbed soft circles against Hanzo's back. "The thing to take away is that it's not a death sentence, darlin'. 'May not' is only a maybe. You're strong, honeybee. I've seen you bounce back from worse."

Hanzo calmed against him, relaxing into the embrace. "I do not deserve you, Jesse." His tone betrayed the smile on his face. He turned his head, pulling back just enough to press a gentle kiss onto McCree's cheek. "But I feel blessed for every day you are with me."

McCree was beaming as he took Hanzo's shoulders to gently push him back a bit more, reaching up to gently wipe the tears away. "You know I love you, Hanzo. With all that I am, I will never stop." His hands rested on Hanzo's shoulders as he leaned forward to kiss his husband's forehead. " _Nothing_ will change that." 

He pulled away to stand, brushing the dirt off his knees before offering his hands to Hanzo. Hanzo didn't particularly need the help, but he took McCree's hands all the same, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. 

McCree offered an arm. Hanzo smiled as he linked his arm through it. He leaned against McCree as they began walking into the base. Closing his eyes, he trusted McCree to guide them. He took great comfort in the contact. McCree had become such a lifeline to him, and it helped him to ground himself, even now as his thoughts tried once again to drag him back into the abyss of self hatred. 

He was at peace and McCree was helping him to maintain it.

~~

McCree was elated to see Hanzo improve so much in the months that followed. Hanzo was giving genuine smiles, playing games with Hana again, participating in 'bonding events' that Lucio planned for the group --which usually consisted of old movies and a veritable ton of popcorn-- and sticking to Angela's appointments. His fugue states even seemed to lessen to a very rare occasion, almost always while McCree was away.

Winston had proven true to his word, allowing Hanzo on recon missions. He didn't seem to care that he was relegated to manning the temporary bases of the stakeouts, though that was most likely due to the fact that he was the effective leader of them. He seemed to revel in the fact that he could do anything at all.  
Overall, everything seemed to be finding a way to smooth themselves out. 

However, one thing that always sat in the back of both minds, often leading to sleepless nights and comforting words, was that Hanzo's reliance on a steady oxygen supply wasn't dwindling. It never got worse, but it wasn't improving very much either. Angela had even given him a more portable device, telling him that it was a constant need for now. It had taken McCree three days to convince him to use it, grateful that they'd never had to repeat the argument.

Today, three months later if the calendar was correct, McCree paced outside medbay. He'd tried to stay inside with Hanzo, but he'd been effectively pushed out because his nerves seemed to be contagious. 

It was just a regular check-up, a test to see the power of his lungs, and to get a plan going for what improvement could be made, if that were an option. McCree was sure everything was okay, but there was always a possibility that it wasn't, and that negative twinkle of a thought was starting to win out.

He started when the doors slid open, Hanzo stepping out to meet him almost dazedly. McCree tried to look at Angela, to possibly gauge a response from her expression, but the doors closed too quickly for him to see more than her hair. His eyes shifted to Hanzo, who seemed to be finding a spot on the floor very interesting.

He smiled softly, placing his hands on Hanzo's shoulders. "Hanzo, how'd it go?"

Hanzo glanced up at him, his expression surprisingly blank and McCree found himself at a loss on what he was feeling. McCree's smile faded. "Darlin'. How did it go?"

Hanzo sighed, closing his eyes to take a breath, then looked to McCree. "There is improvement, but it is too slight for her to say it is there at all. No worse." He spoke with a hint of contempt, but he seemed resigned to it. It phased him less each time the results came to him.

McCree sighed. "It's still an _improvement_ , Hanzo."

Hanzo only grunted a response, shrugging off McCree's hands as he started to walk away. "You say that every time, and yet we are here. I am still waiting and I am still stuck with this _thing_." He gestured to the device resting on his hip, though his movements belied his frustrations. "You tell me I am not weak, and yet I am unable to _breathe_ without assistance."

McCree ran a hand down his face, holding back his own sigh. He knew Hanzo was venting, and he was determined that, despite similar words spilling from his husband four times prior, he would let the words fall without comment.

Hanzo stopped, turning to face McCree. He frowned, unable to meet his gaze. "I am… sorry. I know that it is technically good news and I should not feel so angry, but-" He looked up to see McCree holding up a hand, his expression conveying a bit of frustration.

"I don't want to hear you apologize for bein' angry about this. It's okay to be upset. I just appreciate you letting it out rather than bottlin' it up and explodin' all at once. Especially since it's usually at me..." He smiled a bit at the end, letting his hand fall. 

Hanzo himself smiled at the words, as well, shaking his head as he turned to walk down the hall. "You are a ridiculous man, Jesse."

McCree laughed as he caught up to him. "You've said that many times, darlin', but you married me."

Hanzo crossed his arms, but his smile only broadened. "A fact I often question."

McCree placed a hand over his heart, feigning a stumble. "How can you be so cruel, Hanzo?"

Hanzo laughed. "It is easy when your husband is Jesse McCree." He pulled him over to press a quick kiss to his lips before he let go to continue walking down the hall.

McCree faltered in his steps at the action, though regained himself quickly. "I love you, too, sweetheart."

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in a long while and I hope it's okay. Tags may change, but I will update as best I can.
> 
> A special thank you to my loyal editor, who this wouldn't be possible without, Kirozane. (kirozane.tumblr.com)
> 
> You can find me at my stupid tumblr blanket-hanzo.tumblr.com, where I tend to post a bit ahead of here, since this is all really new to me.
> 
> I hope you like it. Thank you.
> 
> ~Cori


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